Phantom's Angel
by GirlyGeek
Summary: After Christine's rejection and betrayal, Erik's life as he knows it is destroyed and he flees to America to lick his wounds and start a new life. Will he be able to mend the shredded remains of his broken heart and lay his past to rest? Erik x OC
1. Chapter 1

Please review! I love hearing from my readers!

In case you're unable to tell from the first few paragraphs, I'm picking up after where the ALW version of the story leaves off. Oh, I'm also using Gerard Butler as a point of reference for Erik's appearance.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'Phantom of the Opera' (any of the renditions) or any of the cannon characters...unfortunately...(God, I wish I owned Erik!) I'm not making any money from this, I'm just writing this for fun. I do however own Annabelle and any other OCs you may find.

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**Chapter One**

* * *

_...Paris, 1873..._

Erik emerged from the deep, shadowy recesses within the catacombs that had once been his home. He regarded his former home with empty, passive eyes. It had been a year since the great catastrophe in the opera house--a year of constantly looking over his shoulder half expecting for the Paris police to somehow find him in his secondary lair and drag him off to be executed, or worse...

He could be imprisoned and put on display like some animal...

Like the sideshow freak he once was.

Erik shuddered at the memory. Truth be told, Erik would have preferred death. Anything was better than reliving the horror of his childhood...but even if he were executed, what proof did he have that he would not be preserved and stuffed and displayed as some macabre, piece of art for all the world to see? What proof did Erik have that he would finally have a moment's peace without people pointing and staring at him, or children screaming and women fainting at the sight of him? What proof did he have that he would not be exploited even in death?

There was no proof, and Erik refused to ever be put on display again.

As though the threatening prospect of death and public humiliation were not bad enough, the pain from Christine's rejection made his troubles all the more difficult to bear. While Erik had been alone for most of his life, he had tenaciously held onto the hope that there was hope...the hope that he would have a future with Christine--that she would learn to love him the way Erik so longed to be loved. In the end, that was all he wanted...to be loved. But alas, fate saw fit to tear that hope and dream to pieces.

The memory of Christine rowing off with Raoul was still fresh in his mind and each time he thought of it, the dagger was twisted deeper into his heart.

Christine...

Why oh, why had he let her go?

Erik could still see her. Hear her. Smell her--the soft scent of her perfume. He could still feel the softness of her chestnut curls. The memory of her kiss still burned on Erik's lips. It had been his first kiss, and he had always hoped and imagined it would be a perfect moment. Through the years, Erik had always wondered what it would be like to kiss a girl and not have her scream with revulsion, but it was not until he first saw Christine that he had put actual time and effort into the fantasy...bringing it to life in his mind over and over again. His first kiss had been nothing at all like he had imagined. Christine had used his first kiss to manipulate him into letting both her and Raoul go.

Raoul...

The thought of the young viscount sent tremors of rage coursing through Erik's strong frame. Raoul...with his shiny hair, perfect teeth...and perfect face...he was everything any and every girl would want. He was everything Christine wanted...and he was everything that Erik himself could never be.

Could never be...and that knowledge only added salt to the wounds of Erik's shredded heart.

Erik gave a shake of his head as he began gathering the few belongings that had not been destroyed in the fire. How he wished he still had the monkey music box. That monkey had been his one source of comfort and solace during his time in the gypsy caravan, and it had provided him with comfort again and again on many occasions once her had turned it into a music box. But now it was gone. He had nearly driven himself mad searching for it after the fire, but had found no trace of it. Surely it must have been destroyed.

Just like everything else in his life.

Erik gave a small shake of his head. It would do him no good to dwell on his memories. But they were all he had now. He had nothing else except his memories of Christine and all the moments they had shared together. Granted, not all of them were pleasant, but they were still ingrained in his mind. For all his efforts to push those memories to the back of his mind, they still managed to find their way to the front of his consciousness...

Especially in his dreams.

Many had been the night Erik had awoken, calling out Christine's name and expecting to find her with him...only to have his hopes smashed to the ground and shattered. Erik wondered if there would ever be any escape for him...any reprieve. He wondered if he would ever be able to really move on, or if Christine would haunt him for the remainder of his lonely days--the ghost of the future that could have been.

Erik gave a derisive yet determined shake of his head. It was time to move on. There was nothing left for him here.

Christine was gone...

His music was gone...

His home was gone. There would be no point to rebuilding. If anyone ever found out he was still alive, he would never have a moment's peace. Erik was now a fugitive...especially now since the Paris Police knew he was a man of flesh and blood. Why had he risked his safety and secrecy by taking the stage that night during the performance of his opera...his treasured '_Don Juan Triumphant'_? Because he had intended to make Christine know and feel how he wanted her...how he yearned for her...

How he yearned to be loved and accepted by her, as he had never been loved and accepted by anyone else.

Just for a second...one precious moment, Erik had thought that Christine had finally come to see that he would do anything for her. He thought she had finally surrendered to him heart, body and soul. For one brief, fleeting moment, everything was going according to Erik's plan, and he was all that much closer to attaining the love and happiness that he had been denied for the entirety of his miserable life. He had been so close...

But then, the plan had backfired so horribly, and everything that could have gone wrong went wrong.

Christine had betrayed him--unmasked him for the entire world to see. She knew his Achilles heel, and she had exploited it to the fullest--using it to her advantage. She was a traitorous snake...an evil, lying Delila hiding behind a mask of angelic innocence...and Erik had foolishly given his entire heart to her.

That made the rejection and the betrayal all the more painful.

Had he been wise, Erik would have only given part of his heart until he was certain Christine would return his love. Had Erik done that, the pain of his heartbreak would not have been so bad. But Erik had not given part of his heart...he had given all of it! Erik had spent decades of his life constructing walls around his heart--protecting himself from the world's cruelties. What had possessed him to tear down those walls when Christine came into his life? How could a self-taught, gifted genius like himself fall fool to a girl with an angel's face and a devil's forked tongue?

Like Samson and King Solomon, Erik was left in ruins...and all because of a woman.

Never again.

Erik would never again allow himself to be so manipulated. He would never again open himself to a woman. He would never again allow himself to be so vulnerable. For decades his heart had been made of stone and ice. He had melted and chipped away all the protective barriers when he saw Christine...when he had been fooled by her angelic voice and innocent face into thinking that she might be different. However, he knew now that she was just the same as every other woman in the world...a prying Pandora waiting to expose his very soul to ridicule...a lying Delila waiting to gain his trust only to smash it...a venomous viper waiting to sink her poisonous fangs into his heart and kill him slowly from the inside.

With his very soul still feeling the sting of Christine's betrayal, now was the time for Erik to reconstruct his heart in its original fashion. His heart would once more be made of stone and sealed in ice. It was a heart of stone that had kept him 'safe' and 'protected' all those years. A heart of stone could never be swayed or moved by anything. But most importantly, a heart of stone could never be broken.

If only he had not deviated from his way of life, Erik would not be in his current situation. As it was, he could see only one option open to him, and that was to run. To leave France forever and never look back. He still had some money left. He could afford passage on a ship and start over from scratch in a new country...so long as no one saw his face between now and the time he purchased his ticket. He would remain in his cabin for the entire journey and sneak into the kitchen for food when everyone was asleep. Erik was a master of sneaking around through the shadows. No one on board would ever have to see him. It was a sound plan. A perfect plan, even.

But where would he go?

Where _could_ he go?

Persia was certainly out of the question, as well as most of eastern Europe. There would be no imprisonment if he were to show his face in any of those regions...only death, and Erik was not ready to meet his maker just yet. And besides that, it would be a lot more difficult to hide on a train that it would be a large ship. There were only so many places in which a person could hide on a train, and never for very long. No, there was only one place for someone like him to seek refuge...the place far across the sea where others before him had gone to seek refuge.

America...

A small faction of British subjects had once sought refuge many years ago on her virgin shores and in her new and welcoming embrace, why not Erik? Like those Puritans, Erik too was unwanted in his own country...unwanted in almost every European country he had ever set foot in. While his reasons were not related to religion, they were nevertheless reason enough.

America...

With her promise of new life and fresh futures, what better place for a man with no home or country to seek haven?

America...

A country who in her infancy, battled off the larger armed masses of her British motherland. She was a country founded on the desire to escape persecution and tyranny. Surely, there could be no better place for Erik to begin his life a new.

Erik's mind was made up. His future lay within the folds of America. He would run into her welcoming arms and thumb his nose at the countries that had given him nothing but anguish. It would be a place where he could get a fresh start. America would be a place where no one knew about his past. It was a place where no one knew who he was...a place where no one would know of the legends of the infamous ghost of the Opera Populaire.

But most importantly, America would be a place where Erik would not be reminded of Christine every time he turned a corner...

It was with a resolved sigh that Erik finished gathering whatever trinkets and belongings he had found salvageable and disappeared once more into the shadows as though he had never been there. It was thus that Erik Dessler left behind the one and only place he ever in his life truly considered to be his home. He had lived in many places, but it was his underground lair, in which he could listen to the music that once flowed through the great Opera Populaire, where he had felt the most safe and secure. It was playground and his artistic domain. He had designed and crafted it himself--putting his heart and soul into its creation along with his blood, sweat and tears. It was his home in the truest form. But not now. It was not his home anymore...

And it never would be again.

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**A/N:**To my loyal readers of my 'Life Changes' saga and my 'Midnight Blue' fic, no, I'm not giving up on those, so don't panic. I simply have had the idea for this fic in my mind for a while now, and I've been putting it on the back burner while I've been working on my other fics. Well, as of yesterday, it refused to stay tucked away any longer.

**Erik:** That's because I'm a sexy beast.

**Me:** You got that right *pounces*


	2. Chapter 2

Please review! I love hearing from my readers! I do allow anonymous reviews!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'Phantom of the Opera' (any of the renditions) or any of the cannon characters...unfortunately...(God, I wish I owned Erik!) I'm not making any money from this, I'm just writing this for fun. I do however own Annabelle and any other OCs you may find.

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**Chapter Two**

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_...San Francisco; six years later..._

"I'm never going back to that house! Not even if my salary was doubled," the woman said as she hunched over a much needed drink.

"Now, now, Betsy," the bartender chided gently as he wiped down the bar's smooth surface and nodded in greeting to people as they entered. Small groups of workers were just beginning to mill into the bar after a long day of work. He did not notice the small, waif of a girl who had ducked inside to warm herself against the bitter chill of the fog as it rolled in as the sun began its descent into the sea. "You know how eccentric these foreigners can be. 'Specially rich ones."

"That's no excuse for the behavior I had to endure."

The bar tender lowered his voice and drew in closer to Betsy. "He didn't try forcin' himself on ya, did he?"

"No, nothing like that...he's just so tyrannical...pitched a fit every time the smallest thing was out of place, or if he even suspected for a moment that someone had been into his music room without his expressed permission. And that's nothing compared to the strange hours he kept...up all hours of the day and night and expectin' to be waited on in a whim." The woman sighed and took another sip of her drink. "But that wasn't the worst of it."

"Oh? What was?"

"I always felt as though I was being watched...but there would never be anyone there." She drained her glass. "I just couldn't take it anymore, so I quit without notice, and good riddance, I say about it! I never did like working so far on the edge of the city anyway." She shuddered a little. "That house was so isolated...I felt like I could die and no one would know."

The bar keeper nodded as he refilled Betsy's glass. "That house always did give me the willies...did ever since it was built. But isn't the owner supposed to be some great genius, or artist or something like that?"

"Genius doesn't matter when there's madness behind it." Betsy took a long sip of her drink. "I will say this, though...I feel sorry for the next poor soul who gets recruited to replace me."

Drawing her the hood of her cloak down low over her face, the small, young woman slipped back outside into the cold and fog. She drew her thin cloak tightly around her slender shoulders and gripped her worn carpet bag in her other hand as she hurried through the darkening streets. There was only one house in San Francisco that matched Betsy's description, and if she wanted to get there before it became full night, she would have to hurry.

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At the top of the small flight of stairs beneath the large, stone alcove, Annabelle Lee Warren raised a small fist and rapped on one of the heavy, wooden doors. She had been hesitant at first. The large manor had looked so imposing...looming up out of the darkness and shadows of the night as she had made her way up the gravel road.

When the door slowly creaked open, the small waif took a steadying breath as she was suddenly met with the face of a tall, rather harsh looking woman dressed entirely in black...the severity of her features not being helped at all by the tight bun in which her graying hair was pulled.

"Yes?" the woman asked, sternly.

Annabelle gave a small curtsy. "Good evening, madam...I'm sorry to bother you, but...I've heard that you've recently become short-handed." When the woman gave no answer, Annabelle continued. "I was hoping that I might fill that position."

The tall, harsh woman stared silently at the young girl before her for several moments. "What is your name?"

"Belle." She hated her full name, and avoided using it whenever possible. "Belle Warren."

The woman once more regarded Annabelle silently before sighing and stepping back from the door--allowing the girl room to enter. "Come in. I am Mrs. Pierce, the housekeeper." She waited until the small girl had crossed over the threshold before closing the door and locking it behind her. "Remove your cloak, girl."

Putting her carpet bag down on the floor, Annabelle dutifully unfastened her cloak and pushed the hood from her face--allowing her mane of golden hair to tumble free and frame her delicate face. She folded her cloak over her arms and waited.

Mrs. Pierce regarded Annabelle...taking in her small stature. "There isn't much to you, is there?"

"I'm a hard worker, I promise."

"And just how old are you, child?"

"Twenty-one, ma'am."

"And why do you wish to fill the position of maid?"

Annabelle shuffled her feet a little. "I'm new in San Francisco...and I have no money. I used it all up in coming here. I need a job...and I'd rather it be something like housework instead of a less than honorable profession," she said with a soft blush.

Mrs. Pierce gave a small nod. "There is only the cook, myself, the groundskeeper and the maid to tend to Monsieur Dessler and his home, and there is much work to be done in order to ensure that things go according to the master's wishes. I expect you to perform all of your duties efficiently."

Annabelle nodded. "Yes, ma'am. But only four workers? For this entire house?"

"Monsieur Dessler is a very private man." Mrs. Pierce regarded Annabelle as though measuring the young girls' worth. "Do you have a strong constitution, Belle?"

Annabelle drew her graceful eyebrows together in slight puzzlement. "I'm sorry?"

"Monsieur Dessler is very particular...he does not take kindly to any sort of deviation to his pattern of behavior. He will not hesitate to fly into a rage if things are not done to his liking."

"I suppose I can understand that..."

Mrs. Pierce arched an eyebrow. "Can you? We have gone through many maids here, Belle...either them leaving of their own accord or having to be let go for incompetence. Are you certain you will have staying power where all the others did not?"

Knowing she had very little choice in the matter, Annabelle took a deep breath and lifted her chin. "I am, Mrs. Pierce."

The housekeeper gave the smallest of nods. "Very well. Come," she said as she led the way out of the foyer and to a narrow door just off of the kitchen--opening it to reveal a dark and narrow staircase. Taking up a candle, Mrs. Pierce began walking up the stairs. "I'll show you to your room."

* * *

America truly was the land of opportunity. Still being a new country, there was always money to be made, and Erik had put his multitude of talents to good use to assure that he made as much of that money as possible. Whether it was performing magic on the streets, painting portraits, or participating in the booming industry of architecture as the need for new buildings arose, Erik would do it. Once he had done all he could in one city, he would move on to the next and repeat the process...spending only what he had to to get by and saving up the rest, and if he was ever asked as to why he wore a mask, he simply said he had a mining accident and left it at that.

Thus had been the way Erik had moved across the country from the bustling metropolis of New York to the still untamed wilds of California. He had worked his way across the country, amassing his wealth until he finally decided to settle in San Francisco. It was still a growing city, so it was in ever constant need of new buildings...new homes, and that was where Erik had made his niche. His services were clamored for, and he was never out of work.

It was a drastic change from his past way of living. Instead of living below the ground, he now lived in a house, and not just any house. Erik had designed the manor himself and had taken an active role in its construction to assure that everything was done to his specifications...from the secret passageways between the walls to the large music room in the isolated part of the house. Once the manor's construction was completed, Erik filled it with furniture of his own design and paintings of his own creation.

Erik had poured his blood, sweat and tears into the manor's creation. He had given it a piece of his soul. It was everything he had ever wanted and never had the chance to have. It was truly his from top to bottom. There was not one corner or niche that Erik was unfamiliar with. He knew every creak and every angle, and he could effortlessly find his way around in pitch black darkness while being blindfolded. The was his refuge...his sanctuary. It was his home.

But now there was a stranger in Erik's home.

A beautiful stranger, but a stranger nevertheless. Erik could hear the soft timbre of her voice as Mrs. Pierce had spoken to her, and he could smell her scent as it wafted through the darkness of the manor. A girl with such a sweet voice and smell could be nothing but beautiful, but before Erik could catch a glimpse of the girl to confirm his suspicions, the housekeeper had whisked her up the servant's staircase to show her to the room that had until recently been occupied by Betsy.

As he made his way through the secret passageways of the manor and up towards the new girl's room, Erik found himself glad that Betsy was gone. He never did like her...then again, Erik had yet to have a maid in his employee that he did not find fault in. They had all been stupid--unable to remember the simplest rule or instruction. They did however all possess one redeeming quality...

They had been so easy to terrorize!

Never one to suffer fools, Erik never did anything to frighten the maids unless they had displayed great reserves of incompetence and stupidity. As long as they did their work according to specification and followed the rules, they were left alone. However, if they bumbled one too many times, Erik's punishment was exacted with swiftness. It had amused Erik to no end to see no-nonsense women be reduced to superstitious girls afraid of their own shadows until they finally left the manor.

Erik had never once laid a hand on any of them, but that did not stop him from using his other talents...his ventriloquism, his ability to stalk them without being seen...they always worked so well on the weak-minded.

Erik could hear Mrs. Pierce through the walls as she explained the rules to the new girl. The former opera ghost would be lying if he said he did not have some sort of fondness for the widowed housekeeper. He had hired her because she reminded him of Madame Giry, and almost two years later, Erik was still pleased with his decision. Mrs. Pierce was an excellent employee. She followed his instructions to the letter and made sure that Bruce, the groundskeeper as well as Maddie, the cook did the same. How the maids managed to be so useless with the likes of Mrs. Pierce on their backs, Erik simply could not understand.

Reaching the room of his destination, Erik stood behind the full length mirror, comfortable in the knowledge that while he could see everything that occurred in the small bedroom, he himself could not be seen through the glass. He did not have to wait long before the door to the room swung open and Mrs. Pierce strode in with the new girl a few steps behind her.

"The most important rule of all the ones I have told you, and you must take particular care in remembering this one, child." Mrs. Pierce said sternly as she used her own candle to light the candle on the small bedside table. "Never, under no circumstances are you to go into Monsieur Dessler's music room without his expressed permission. If you are delivering a meal to him, you must knock first and wait for him to grant you entrance. The same rule applies for going into the room to clean. If you do not receive permission to enter, then you are not allowed inside. Have I made myself perfectly clear on that matter, Belle?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Very well," Mrs. Pierce said with a small nod. "Once you have gotten yourself situated, come down to the kitchen as we shall see about getting you some supper."

"Thank you, ma'am."

With that, Mrs. Pierce turned and strode from the room, closing the door behind her and leaving Belle alone in her room...or so she thought.

Belle....'beauty'.

As he watched Belle go about the task of putting away her few possessions, Erik supposed the girl was pretty enough to deserve the name of 'beauty', but until he was able to get a closer look at her, he would not know for certain. If she would only come to the mirror...

As though hearing his thoughts, the girl approached the mirror on her way to the small wardrobe in order to hang her cloak, and Erik's breath caught in his throat. Belle's hair was like the finest spun gold and it framed her delicate face and cascaded around her graceful neck like a warm, heavenly glow. Her rose-colored lips were those that begged to be kissed, her nose was lovely and straight, and her eyes were exquisite...large and almond shaped, and of a peculiar shade of blue that appeared almost violet in certain light.

She truly was a lovely creature...appearing angelic and yet almost nymph-like. Erik had never seen anyone quite like her...

Her body was slim, yet, beneath the dress that fit her more loosely than it should have, Erik could see the swell of her breasts, and they appeared perfectly proportioned to her body...neither too big nor too small. As he wondered how those breasts would feel in his hand or pressed against his naked chest, the former opera ghost found himself feeling a growing desire that he had not felt since he left France...it was small like the embers of a dying fire as they fought to regain their strength and flame...

Erik's eyes widened and he gave a violent shake of his head. No! This would certainly not do at all! He must not allow himself to even become infatuated with the girl. As angelic as she might appear, Belle was still a woman...a beautiful, young woman, and she would be just like the others. They were, after all, all the same...all looking for a rich and handsome young man to marry.

But still...she looked so very sweet...perhaps she was different from other women...

* * *

Annabelle examined her reflection after she had hung her cloak in the wardrobe and sighed softly in resignation. She had long since come to terms with her appearance...though that did not stop her from occasionally wishing that it would miraculously change. She had always thought her eyes, mouth and nose were too big for her face...as though she had never quite grown into them, and she often wished she was a little taller, but alas...such things could not be changed.

Sighing once more, Annabelle began weaving her golden hair into a single braid down her back with practiced skill...completely unaware as to her silent and secret audience, and she smiled. For the first time in a long while, she was filled with a sense of genuine well being. Things were finally going well for her...she had employment, a roof over her head, she was safe, and she did not have to worry about where her next meal would come from.

Annabelle slowly let out a breath. She was nervous about starting tomorrow. There were so many rules, she hoped she would be able to remember them all. Squaring her shoulders in determination, she raised her chin and looked her reflection directly in the eye. She would not lose her position here. Tomorrow morning when she started work, she would make certain that she gave her new master no excuse to dismiss her.

* * *

Belle...'beauty'...

Yes, Erik decided with a nod. The lovely creature standing before him was certainly worthy of the name...

Erik gave another shake of his head. He could not allow himself to become involved with Belle...no matter how lovely and sweet she appeared. That was the last thing he needed...to have everything he had built for himself her in this new city and country suddenly torn down because of a pair of lovely eyes.

Lovely pools of indigo that he could simply drown in...

No!

Erik had gone six years without giving pretty girls a thought. He had never even employed the services of prostitutes. So what if he died a virgin? At least he would keep his life intact. He was bound and determined to live out the rest of his days in peace. He would have nothing but his work and his art. There was simply no room in his heart for anything else...

Not even a small young woman with the face of an angel.


	3. Chapter 3

Please review! I love hearing from my readers! I live for reviews, and I do allow anonymous reviews, so don't be shy!

**Warning:**Sexual content...there, you've been warned, lol ;-p

**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'Phantom of the Opera' (any of the renditions) or any of the cannon characters...unfortunately...(God, I wish I owned Erik!) I'm not making any money from this, I'm just writing this for fun. I do however own Annabelle and any other OCs you may find.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

* * *

The next morning, Erik found himself in Annabelle's room. No matter how many times he had told himself he would not get involved in any way with his new employee, no matter how many times he had told himself to leave well enough alone...no matter how many time he had told himself that sort of pursuit of Annabelle would result in inconsolable anguish on his part, Erik could not stop himself that morning from moving silently through the manor's secret passages, emerging from behind Annabelle's mirror and venturing into the lovely girl's bedroom. The moment he had crossed the threshold, Erik was enveloped in Annabelle's soft, sweet scent.

Dear God in Heaven, her scent was intoxicating!

It was the loveliness of roses combined with the sweetness of gardenias. It was so feminine, and Erik wanted to wrap himself in it. As he moved about the small room, he took in Annabelle's few belongings. He ran his long, elegant fingers over her brush and comb on the room's small dresser, before going to the wardrobe and opening the door. Running his hands over the fabric of the thin cloak and the two worn dresses hanging inside, Erik brushed one of the sleeves against the unmasked part of his face. Still holding the old, thin fabric to his skin, the gaze of former opera ghost landed on the several books neatly stacked on the bedside table beside the candle, and he pulled himself away from Annabelle's dress to examine the tomes. Sitting on the edge of the small bed, Erik examined each of the books one by one...

_'Jane Eyre', 'The Hunchback of Notre Dame', 'Frankenstein', 'Faust', 'Paradise Lost', _a collection of Shakespeare's sonnets, and a collection of poems by Tennyson...

All of the tomes were well worn, and had obviously been read several times over...several passages in the books of poetry were marked by small snippets of ribbon. It became clear to Erik that Annabelle was an educated young woman. Her taste in literature was varied and showed great depth to show anything to the contrary. Why then would she willingly choose to be someone else's servant?

Sighing softly, Erik hugged _'Jane Eyre' _to his chest as he laid down on Annabelle's bed and rested his head on her pillow. It mattered little to him why the lovely girl had chosen to come to work in his manor. All that mattered was that she was in fact working in his home...

And Erik could see her everyday.

Erik's eyes began drifting closed as Annabelle's scent drifted into his nose and carried him away on a sweet fantasy the likes of which he had not dared allowed himself to experience in so long a time...

He was holding Annabelle in his arms, her small, feminine, naked body pressed against his own naked body as she stood on tip toe and pressed sweet, tender kisses to his lips, his mask as well as the unmasked half of his face. Her beautiful eyes had darkened to indigo as her desire rose, and her little hands were tender as they caressed Erik's neck and ran up into his dark hair. She opened her mouth to him--granting his tongue access when it had sought permission to enter...her own tongue slowly dancing with his. Annabelle whimpered softly in blissful submission as Erik trailed soft, nipping kisses down the graceful column of her neck...softly begging and pleading for more.

Erik's trousers began growing tighter as he delved deeper into the fantasy, and he could not stop himself from lightly brushing his fingers over the growing bulge and caressing it through the fabric of his immaculate, black trousers...

He was making love to Annabelle now--claiming her as his very own, and her small, enticing body arched beneath him with the pleasure he was giving her. Her breasts bounced with the movement of Erik's thrusts and he could not stop himself from suckling one of Annabelle's pert nipples into the warmth of his mouth. Her sweet, whimpered moans of rising ecstasy were music to Erik's ears. How beautiful the lovely blond looked in the throes of passion--her face flushed and her golden locks fanned out over the plush pillows of Erik's bed.

But there was nothing more beautiful than what Erik witnessed next...

After Annabelle's musical cry of release sounded through the room...mingling with Erik's own cry as he shuddered and spilled his seed into her waiting womb, she smiled sweetly as she gazed lovingly up into Erik's eyes, and her little hands caressing his face and mask without any hint of removing it. _"I love you, Erik...and I'm yours forever."_

Those words...not even in his fantasies had those words ever been spoken to Erik before, and now that he had heard them, they were all he wanted to hear. _"Say it again, my sweet angel...please say those words once more..."_

Annabelle's smile grew and she brushed a tender kiss to Erik's lips. _"I love you, Erik...and I'm yours forever."_

It was the most perfect moment of Erik's life, and his heart felt it would burst from all the blissful joy he felt.

Suddenly, they were bathed in a nearly blinding white light. Erik looked around to find his bed was on a large stage being observed by a massive audience. Looking down to Annabelle in confusion, his eyes widened when he found Christine's face gazing back up at him, and before he could do anything, Christine ripped his mask off with a cruel smile--leaving him naked and exposed for all the world to see and ridicule.

And ridicule they did.

Erik found himself suddenly in a cage similar to the one that had been his prison while he was a boy in the gypsy fair. Everyone pointed and laughed at him. They threw things at him and leered at him.

_"Look at the Devil's child!"_

_"Look at the Devil's child all grown up!"_

_"See how he parades around with his ugly naked body!"_

_"Ugly!"_

_"So ugly!"_

_"Hideous!"_

_"Pathetic how he expects love!"_

_"There is no love for the Devil!"_

_"Nor for his children!"_

_"No love!"_

_"No love!"_

_"No love for the Devil's child!"_

Christine was at the front of the crowd--taunting Erik with her lovely, naked body.

_"This will never be yours, Erik,"_ Christine said with a sweet harshness. _"Beauty will never be yours. Love will never be yours."_

Raul was suddenly there--his perfect, unmarred body naked in it's full glory. Smiling wickedly at Erik, he began taking Christine in front of him--making her moan like a cheap, common whore. _"Never yours, Erik,"_ he taunted.

The laughter of the crowd was deafening, but Erik could still hear the voices of Raul and Christine. There was no escape from them.

_"Never yours,"_ Christine affirmed as Raul pounded into her--moaning all the while her eyes stared tauntingly at Erik.

Erik and his cage were suddenly surrounded by copies of Christine--all being taken in different ways by copies of Raul. Try as he might, Erik could neither look away nor close his eyes. They simply refused to close. He was forced to watch the multitude of Rauls and Christines fucking in front of him like animals.

_"Never yours."_

_"Never yours."_

_"Never."_

_"Never."_

_"Never."_

With a wordless cry ripping from Erik's lips, his eyes snapped open in attempts to stave off the anguish and humiliation from eight years ago, but it was too late...

The damage had been done.

With the cruel laughter echoing in his head, Erik curled up in the fetal position and held his head as he tried to chase away the horrible images...but it was as though they had been branded into his mind's eye. He tasted bile in his throat as the entire nightmare replayed itself though his mind in slow motion, and even when he had finally gained control over his thoughts, Erik could still see the sources of his pain. He could see them. He could hear them...

Raul and Christine...

Christine.

Even now, eight years later, she haunted Erik. Not even his dreams and fantasies were safe from her. She always preyed upon him like some sort of succubus every time Erik would even begin indulging himself in the rare fantasy of being with a pretty girl. But this nightmare was by far the worst. Christine would always strike at the moment of greatest bliss. It was her pattern. It was her way of showing Erik...of reminding him again and again of what could never be his...

What would never be his.

Erik's body trembled in agonized rage. "Damn you, Christine," he snarled as tears rolled down his cheeks. "Damn you!"

* * *

In the parlor, Annabelle gave a small gasp when she heard a meow not that far from her head. Turning her head to the right, she found herself being stared down by the most exquisite Siamese cat she had ever seen. "Oh, hello there," she greeted with a soft smile. "Aren't you a pretty little thing?"

The cat regarded Annabelle from its place on the mantle with its large, blue eyes.

"And what might your name be?" Annabelle asked the elegant feline.

The cat swished its long tail as it continued to stare at the blond girl.

Annabelle began dusting the mantle and continued talking as though she and the cat were having a conversation. "Well, I'm sorry if I disturbed you, or offended you by not acknowledging you sooner, but really...it's no wonder I didn't see you there. You see, I'm not allowed to draw open any of the drapes."

The cat mewed softly.

"Why, you ask? Well, it's one of the rules, you see...no light except what the candles and the small oil lamps provide. As to the why of this, I have no idea whatsoever, but as a great man once said, 'ours is not to reason why...ours is but to do and to die'. So you see, little one...that's why I didn't see you...especially since your coloring is so dark. It wasn't that I was ignoring you, not at all. You're much too pretty to ignore," she said with a smile as she carefully dusted around the cat. So involved was she in both her conversation and her work, that Annabelle did not hear Mrs. Pierce enter the room.

"Belle, have you finished in the sitting room?"

"Yes, Mrs. Pierce," Annabelle answered as she finished dusting the mantel.

"Well, stop what you're doing in here and see to Monsieur Dessler's office. He is expecting a client in an hour's time and will be receiving him in there."

"Yes, ma'am," Annabelle answered. "Well, fair feline, I suppose this is goodbye," she said with a smile and a small curtsy. "Until next time," she said as she turned on her heel and walked to the doorway.

"You are a strange girl," Mrs. Pierce said as the petite blond approached her.

"Oh? Am I?" Annabelle asked simply.

"Why curtsy to a cat?"

Annabelle was silent for a few moments. "Well...why not?" she asked simply as though it were the most obvious answer in the world.

The housekeeper sighed softly and gave a small shake of her head. "You are strange indeed. In either case, don't let Tatiana distract you from your duties...not that she will in any case. She avoids everyone with the exception of Monsieur Dessler."

"Oh, well in that case," Annabelle turned and with a flourish curtseyed once more to the cat. "Farewell, oh fair and lovely Tatiana. Parting is such sweet sorrow."

With another shake of her head, Mrs. Pierce turned on her heel and strode away, muttering under her breath of the strangeness of the new girl she had just hired.

* * *

That night, after a long day's work, as Annabelle washed her face and changed into her thin nightgown, the small blond could not shake the feeling that someone had been in her room at some point during the day. Shivering as she deftly braided her hair, she noticed that nothing was out of place. Quite the contrary...everything was exactly as she had left it...but she still had a slight and indescribable feeling of intrusion.

Finally sighing softly and giving a small shrug of her slender shoulders, Annabelle climbed under the covers and settled in for the night. However, once her head settled on her pillow, her eyes widened at the strange scent that drifted into her nose. It had a hint of sandalwood, and was very obviously masculine.

Someone had been in her room!

But who? It wasn't the groundskeeper, that was for certain. Annabelle had gotten a whiff of him when she had met him during breakfast in the kitchen, and he did not smell nearly as appealing as her pillow did at present. There was only one other man at the manor, and that was Monsieur Dessler. But Annabelle had yet to meet him, so she had no way of knowing if he matched the scent on her pillow...and in any case, why would the master of the house seek to rest his head on a mere servant girl's pillow?

"It's absolutely ridiculous," Annabelle said softly aloud before drifting off into silent thought. Perhaps there was a ghost in the manor... "That's even more ridiculous than Monsieur Dessler taking a nap in my bed," the small blond said with a small shake of her head. "Ghosts don't smell this good..." She lightly nuzzled her pillow and breathed in the masculine scent...it was so delicious and it appealed to something deep inside of Annabelle. "Or do they?" she asked softly.

Turning onto her side and wrapping her arms around the pillow, Annabelle found herself feeling less and less intruded upon, and instead found herself unable to stop the small smile from tugging at the corners of her mouth as she deeply breathed in the scent on her pillow. As her eyes fluttered closed, it was thoughts of a dark and mysterious, passionate lover that filled her mind and her dreams...taking her innocence as he entangled himself with her in the age-old dance of love and the deepest desire.


	4. Chapter 4

Please review! I love hearing from my readers! I live for reviews, and I do in fact allow anonymous reviews, so don't be shy!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'Phantom of the Opera' (any of the renditions) or any of the cannon characters...unfortunately...(God, I wish I owned Erik!) I'm not making any money from this, I'm just writing this for fun. I do however own Annabelle and any other OCs you may find.

* * *

**Chapter Four**

* * *

_...Five days later..._

In Annabelle's room, Erik found himself laying in the girl's bed once more. He had not meant to...

He hand not meant to climb the stairs of the secret passage...

He had not meant to go to Annabelle's mirror...

He had not meant to slide the mirror aside and enter Annabelle's room...

He had not meant to lay once again in Annabelle's narrow bed...

But he had.

For all his mental reprimands and chastising, Erik once again found himself inexplicably drawn to Annabelle's bedroom. Dear God in Heaven, what was wrong with him? Erik groaned softly and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Why did he continue doing this to himself? There was neither a chance nor a hope for him and Annabelle. There was no future for them. Why then did he continue entertaining thoughts of the two of them together?

This was not good...

But Annabelle's scent was.

Turning so he was laying on his side, Erik hugged Annabelle's pillow to him and buried his face into its...breathing in Annabelle's scent--shuddering as it appealed to something primal deep inside of him. How he wanted her! How he wanted to run his fingers through her golden hair...to feel the warmth of her body pressed against his...and the softness of her lips...those lips that begged to be kissed. It was not long before Erik felt himself slipping into another fantasy...

Erik pushed open a set of heavy doors and entered a ballroom that was illuminated by candlelight. Annabelle stood in the center, dressed in a magnificent, blue ball gown that brought out the color of her enchanting eyes. Only half of her golden tresses were pulled back, leaving the rest to cascade softly over and around her shoulders. Upon seeing Erik enter the room, Annabelle's lovely face lit up with a smile and she held out her hands to him.

_"I've been waiting for you, Erik. Dance with me?"_

Erik could not refuse. Closing the distance between the two of them, he took one of Annabelle's small hands in his own...his long fingers closing around and caressed the soft skin as his other hand pressed itself to the small of the lovely girl's back. Though there was no orchestra that Erik could see, the music of a slow waltz drifted through the room, and within moments, the pair was dancing. Erik's heart fluttered in his chest as Annabelle smiled up at him.

She was smiling for him, and him alone.

_"I love you, Erik,"_ Annabelle said sweetly.

_"Do you, Belle? Do you really?"_

_"Yes, Erik...very much. I'm yours"_

_"Say it again, my angel. Let me here those words upon your sweet lips once more."_

Annabelle smiled. _"I love you, Erik...I'm yours and only yours."_

_"Belle..."_ Erik pressed his lips to Annabelle's and kissed her tenderly. Suddenly, they were in bed...their legs tangled together as their naked bodies pressed together, and Erik's heart skipped a beat as he felt Annabelle spread her legs for him...inviting him into her. _"Ma petite Belle..."_

_"My love,"_ Annabelle said with a sweet smile...her eyes closing briefly as a soft, sweet moan of pleasure escaped her lips when Erik slid into her.

Dear God, she was moaning for him! She was moaning because of him!

_"Do you love me, Erik?"_

Before Erik could answer, the candles began blowing out one by one--gradually enveloping the pair in darkness. Instantly, he was flooded with a panic and dread that not even the lovely creature laying so invitingly beneath him could quell.

_"Erik?"_ Annabelle asked softly.

_"Do it, Erik,"_ Christine's voice whispered in Erik's ear. _"Go on...tell her that you love her. Bear your heart and soul to her...just like you did with me."_

Erik's mask was suddenly ripped from his face.

_"Tell her that you love her, Erik,"_ Christine's voice said mockingly. _"Let us see if she can love a monster! Let us see how she recoils, and hear how she screams!"_

"No!"

Erik's eyes flew open, and he hurriedly sat up and threw the pillow across the room. He had managed to awaken before he could either see Annabelle's face contort in revulsion or hear her screams of terror...knowing he would not be able to face either.

Standing, Erik paced back and forth across the room in agitation. He had to stop this. He could not let this obsession continue. While he may not presently be in love with Annabelle, he most definitely felt a strong attraction and desire for her...love would only be a matter of time, and that was something Erik could not allow! Growling in frustration, he continued pacing like a caged animal. He was letting his desires and dreams get the better of him, and it would only end in anguish and heartache...

Just like it had with Christine.

Sighing as he retrieved the pillow from where he had thrown it, Erik dusted it off as he strode back to the bed. He moved to replace the pillow on the bed, but stopped himself in mid motion...slowly--his mind warring with his body--Erik hugged the pillow to him once more...gently...tenderly...all the while imagining it was Annabelle that he was holding...that her lovely, exquisite eyes were looking up at him with love and adoration.

"Oh, petite Belle," he whispered softly a loud. "My lovely angel...will you not release me from your hold? Will you not be merciful and save one who cannot save himself?" He sighed as he once more buried his face in the pillow. "But how can you release me when you don't even know you have captured me? Oh, my lovely Belle...it would seem this is quite a hopeless situation, isn't it? I am doomed to live a cursed half-life...having you in my life yet not having you...eternally together, yet forever apart. I shall worship you from afar...for only from afar can my heart remain safe from you."

* * *

"Haunted?" Mrs. Pierce questioned with a raised eyebrow as she looked up from the household accounts. "Whatever do you mean, child?"

A bottle of silver polish in one hand and a clean rag in the other, Annabelle slightly shuffled her feet and tried not to feel ridiculous for bringing up the idea in the first place. "I was just wondering if this house was haunted," she said softly. For the past four nights, the masculine scent that had been on her pillow had filled the room...as though her mysterious visitor had returned again and again, and as though that were not enough, Annabelle now had the sense of being watched wherever she went. She however chose to remain silent about her experiences and fears, not wanting the housekeeper to think she was mentally unstable and thus fire her.

"What a notion, indeed," Mrs. Pierce huffed. "Stuff and nonsense! I thought you to be a more sensible girl than that. Don't go filling your head with flighty ideas such as those, my girl. They'll do you no good in life."

Annabelle sighed softly and slightly hung her head in resignation. "Yes, ma'am," she said softly. "Sorry to have bothered you. I'll just go polish the silver then," she said as she turned and quietly strode from the kitchen, feeling like a foolish child for having said anything.

"Why didn't you tell 'er?" Mrs. Smith, the stout, matronly cook asked once she was sure Annabelle was out of hearing range.

"Keep your breath to cool your porridge, Maddie. There's no need for the girl to know about the master's curious ways."

"But she's such a sweet little thing, Minerva...and from what I can see, a good worker. It would be a shame to lose her because she thinks this house has a ghost."

"And it would be an even greater shame for the master to lose business because of word slipping out of his eccentricities and peculiarities," Mrs. Pierce said firmly.

The cook sighed softly. "I suppose you're right," she said as she went back to kneading dough for the bread she was making.

The housekeeper nodded. "Perhaps once Belle has been here long enough and we feel she can be trusted..."

"But maybe she can be trusted," Mrs. Smith suggested. "Tatiana seems to have taken a liking to her...always following her about as she does her chores. I've never seen her do that before."

Mrs. Pierce sighed. "Tatiana is an animal, Maddie. We will not base our decision on the whims and behavior of an animal. Once I feel the girl is to be trusted, then perhaps I will tell her. But until that time comes, the less the girl knows, the better."

* * *

In the dining room, Annabelle sat on the edge of one of the seats surrounding the grand table in the center of the room. before her were several cases of silver utensils waiting to be cleaned and polished. When finished polishing one piece of the collection, Annabelle would place it back into its designated space in the case with the utmost care--not wishing to smudge her hard work. She kept focused on her task--concentrating on nothing else. This was not only to ensure that she did the best possible job, but also to distract her from the feeling of being watched.

The back of Annabelle's neck prickled, but she resisted the urge to glance about the room. What good would it do? In the five times she had looked around, she had found nothing or no one that could constitute her feeling of paranoia. Perhaps it was because of the paintings in the room. The figures were all gazing down upon her, but that alone should not have been enough to unnerve her.

Sighing, and squaring her shoulders, Annabelle turned back to her task--focusing all her thoughts and energy into making certain the utensils were shiny like new. She was determined to stop acting like a frightened child, and instead act like a woman of her twenty one years. Women did not allow themselves to be taken off by tales of ghosts. Only children did that.

So focused was Annabelle on her task, that she did not notice Tatiana come and sit at her feet. She did not notice the cat stare up at her for a full five minutes. She had no idea the cat was there until the elegant animal jumped into her lap--eliciting a gasped cry of startled surprise. One of Annabelle's hands flew to her chest as though to steady her racing heart, and she could not stop herself from glaring at the feline sitting in her lap. "Tatiana," she hissed. "That wasn't very nice. You nearly scared me half to death."

Tatiana merely flicked her elegant tail and mewed.

Annabelle raised an eyebrow. "Oh, well...I'm so sorry if you don't think that's a problem, but I happen to very much think so."

Tatiana merely blinked and began kneading Annabelle's lap before curling up and resting her head on her elegant paws.

"I thought you didn't like people," Annabelle mused. This was the first time Tatiana had made physical contact with her. "Mrs. Pierce said that you avoid everyone except Monsieur Dessler. Yet, you always follow me around the house, and here you now are upon my lap. Not that I mind, mind you...as quiet as you can be sometimes, you're still good company. If only you could tell me what Monsieur Dessler is like. I have yet to even see him, you see. He must be a good sort of man...after all, you're not exactly starving, and your coat is always clean, smooth and glossy."

Tatiana swished her tail.

"Clearly he dotes on you," Annabelle mused softly as she fingered the black, velvet collar fastened around the feline's neck by means of a delicate, brass clasp. "So what do you think, Tatiana? Does this house have a ghost, or am I losing my mind?" She sighed softly. "If there is a ghost, he doesn't seem to mean me any harm. Maybe my room used to be his when he was alive," she mused softly. "But Mrs. Pierce says I shouldn't concern myself with things like that...but I think I can trust you not to go and tell her about my thoughts," Annabelle said with a soft smile. "We'll just keep it a secret between us girls."

At the lack of response from the lovely feline, the petite blond chanced to stroke her glossy, silken coat...instantly being rewarded with a soft, rumbling purr. Smiling and giggling softly, Annabelle resumed her task of silver polishing, stopping every so often to run her fingers over the now sleeping Tatiana's fur.

* * *

Erik could not believe his eyes as he gazed out from behind the mirror in the dining room. Tatiana had willingly sought out the attention of another, and not just any other, but another who had only been in the manor for five days. His beloved pet would not even allow Mrs. Pierce to touch her, and she had known Tatiana since she was a kitten.

Just then, Tatiana raised her head and turned it towards the mirror. It was little wonder that she knew Erik was there. Erik knew his cat was familiar with his presence even when he could not be seen. But instead of simply resting her head back on her paws, Tatiana continued staring at him through the glass. Was she trying to tell him something?

Was Tatiana trying to tell Erik that it was all right?

That Annabelle was different?

Animals were able to sense things about people. Did Tatiana sense a goodness in Annabelle that Erik was perhaps too frightened to see? Erik wondered if he would ever be brave enough to find out...

* * *

_...That night..._

Annabelle covered her mouth as she yawned while opening her bedroom door--the unmistakable scent of sandalwood and masculinity enveloping her instantly. Leaving her door open just a crack to provide enough light so she could find her way to her dresser without tripping. Striking a match, she lit the candle there and took it up in her hand as she moved to close her door. She then walked over to her bed and used the candle to light the small oil lamp on her bedside table. That task complete, the small blond walked back to her dresser and replaced the candle.

Sleepily rubbing her eyes, Annabelle opened the top drawer of her dresser and retrieved her nightgown and draped it over the foot of her bed. Untying her apron, she moved to her wardrobe and hung it up before slipping out of her maid's uniform and hanging it up in the closet beside the apron. Annabelle's simple chemise, petticoat and corset soon followed before she sleepily slipped her nightgown on over her head before braiding her hair into a single plait. That done, she pulled back the covers so she could climb into bed--ready to be swept away into the arms of the dark and mysterious lover of her dreams.

It was then that Annabelle noticed the flower on her pillow...

It was a single, flawless tulip of yellow and red, and Annabelle could not stop the small smile from tugging at the corners of her mouth. "A variegated tulip...meant to convey that the recipient has beautiful eyes," she mused softly as her heart fluttered. While she felt her eyes were too big for her delicate face, Annabelle had always loved the color of her eyes...not quite blue, yet not quite violet. They had always been a source of continuous admiration, and it seemed that now was no different. Apparently, even ghosts could appreciate beauty...

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Annabelle gently took the flower into her hands and held it to her nose...drawing in its sweet and subtle fragrance before slowly moving her gaze about the small room--determined not to be unnerved anymore by whoever her mysterious visitor was. "Whoever you are," she said softly. "I don't know if you can hear me, but if you can...thank you for the flower..." A soft blush arose in Annabelle's cheeks, and her heart fluttered once more. "And thank you for the compliment."

* * *

Behind Annabelle's mirror, a small smile tugged at the corners of Erik's mouth. "You're welcome." His voice was just barely above a whisper as he watched the lovely girl sniff the tulip one final time before carefully placing it beside her pillow and delving under the covers. Curling up on her side, she reached over and turned down the wick in her oil lamp until the flame went out. Erik's smile grew a fraction of an inch as he watched Annabelle lightly curl one of those little hands around the stem of the flower as she drifted off to sleep.

He was glad Annabelle had liked his gift...small as it was. He was even gladder that she understood the meaning behind the flower. Surely there could be no harm in complimenting the lovely girl on the beauty of her eyes...so long as Erik did not become too close or attached to her. A secret admirer...a worshipper from afar...even they were allowed to compliment the object of their affections. If Annabelle wanted to believe him to be some sort of besotted ghost, so be it. It would suit his needs and would keep him from getting too close. After all...ghosts could not bed beautiful women...

But they could watch them.

Erik had watched Annabelle move about the small space of her room in her thin nightgown--catching occasional and fleeting glimpses of the lovely girl's slender, feminine form as the loose fabric moved against her. As usual, her golden hair was confined in a loose braid, and Erik wished more than anything that Annabelle would free her locks from their prison. He longed to see her lovely, delicate face framed by that halo of gold...almost as much as Erik wished he could run his hair through it...

Erik wondered how those silken threads of gold would feel between his fingers...just as he wondered how Annabelle's skin would feel against his own...how soft her lips were. His mind was suddenly filled with the memory of when the lovely girl had undressed.

While Erik had done his best not to watch Annabelle as she undressed, in the end he could not help himself, and he had greatly enjoyed what he saw...the hard, aching bulge in his immaculate trousers was evidence of that. There had been the faintest pink tinge to the lovely girl's creamy skin...giving her a healthy glow, and the rest of her body was even more enticing. Every bit of Annabelle was soft and feminine...from her adorable little feet, to the slimness of her ankles, the elegant line of her legs, the curve of her hips, to the slight swell of her belly, the narrowness of her waist, and the roundness of her breasts.

The beauty of Annabelle's little body had made Erik weep silent tears...just as he was sure God had wept after creating her.

Annabelle was perfect...a true work of utter perfection...

And more than anything, Erik desired to make her his.


	5. Chapter 5

Please review! I love hearing from my readers! I live for reviews, and I do in fact allow anonymous reviews, so don't be shy! Please note that all flamers will be strung up with the Punjab lasso.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'Phantom of the Opera' (any of the renditions) or any of the cannon characters...unfortunately...(God, I wish I owned Erik!) I'm not making any money from this, I'm just writing this for fun. I do however own Annabelle and any other OCs you may find in the story.

* * *

**Chapter Five**

* * *

_...Almost four weeks later..._

As Annabelle moved about the kitchen after breakfast, she found her mind wandering to her mysterious visitor. He had continued leaving gifts for her on her pillow...flowers, lovely lengths of ribbon to tie her hair with...they were simple gifts, but the lovely blond took great joy in them. She herself had begun responding in kind by leaving her mysterious friend small snippets of poetry. Some had been lines taken from her books, but many had been of her own creation.

She was no longer unnerved by her mysterious visitor…nor was she uneasy by the feeling of being watched. Rather, she had come to find both to be strangely comforting…even to the point of feeling bereft when she did not feel the eyes of her mysterious friend watching her. Though she had yet to see him, Annabelle had come to think of him as a sort of guardian. He had shown her nothing but quiet kindness, and the small blond could not help feeling a measure of affection for him...even though he was only a ghost.

Last night however, Annabelle's mysterious friend had deviated from his normal pattern of leaving gifts on her pillow. When the petite blond had gone to her room, it was to find her bed covered in rose petals. She had been seized with such a childlike excitement that she had thrown caution to the wind and had let go of her inhibitions. The thought of it now, made her cheeks warm as she took up an empty pail to fill with water.

"There's a glow about you, little Belle," Maddie said with a smile.

Annabelle looked up from filling a pail of water. "Oh? Is there?" she asked with a small smile. "Well, I suppose it's just because I'm happy to be here," she said as she grabbed a scrubbing brush and started toddling out of the kitchen with the brush in one hand and the heavy bucket of soapy water in the other.

"Happy? To be a servant in a manor?" Maddie asked with a raised eyebrow.

Annabelle smiled over her shoulder at the cook. There are a lot of worse things I could be or worse places I could be in. What's a little housework in exchange for regular meals in my belly and a roof over my head?" She saw no need to make mention of her mysterious friend or his gifts.

The cook gave a small nod of her head. "I suppose you have a point there, But still...you're a bit of a strange bird, aren't you?" she asked with a teasing smile.

Annabelle giggled softly as she crossed the threshold of the kitchen. "That's what they keep telling me." She gave a small curtsy to Mrs. Pierce as she passed her.

"Whatever that child finds to be so happy about, I'll never know," the housekeeper muttered under her breath with a small shake of her head as she entered the kitchen and put the kettle on.

Mrs. Smith looked up from preparing the afternoon meal. "She's just a simple girl, Minerva...the sort who can take delight in just about anything I'm guessing. Either way, she's settled in nicely...easily getting into the swing of things and following all the rules."

Mrs. Pierce gave a small nod of her head. "Simple as she may be, the girl does have some sense at least...she's lasted much longer than I expected her to. I will give her that much."

"Oh, you can give her more than that," the cook chided gently. "She's a good worker, and she's polite and respectable...and she never complains."

"Yes, I suppose you're right."

"How fortunate that she should happen upon us the way she did."

"Yes...I must admit, it was against my better judgment at first to hire a girl off the street without references...but I have yet to fully regret my decision as of yet. Tea?" she asked as she prepared a cup for herself.

"Yes, thank you," Maddie said. "Have you had any complaints from the master about her?"

"None whatsoever.

So far, the girl has followed all the rules…therefore, the master has had no reason to complain about her," the housekeeper said as she prepared a cup for the cook.

The cook smiled. "Well then, let's count our blessings, shall we?"

Mrs. Pierce nodded. "Yes, let's…the last thing I need is to train another girl."

* * *

_...Music room..._

Annabelle's giggle echoed through Erik's mind. It was sweet, like the song of a sparrow, yet there was warmth and substance to it...keeping it from being shrill and annoying like the giggles of the spoiled, frivolous and shallow girls he had come across during all his travels. Her giggle was music to him...so sweet and lyrical...

As he sat at his piano, Erik could not stop his hands from creating a piece of music...one hand scribbling on a black sheet of music paper while the other picked out notes on the ivory keys--the both of them attempting to immortalize the sweet sound of Annabelle's laughter. A small smile tugged at the corners of Erik's mouth as he worked...his mind filling with images of the girl with the angel's face and Beauty's name.

"Sweet Belle," Erik mused softly. "Mon belle ange...you are the inspiration for this piece. Though it may never see itself out of this room, it matters little to me...it will be for my ears alone." A ghost of a smile played over his lips. "So I can be reminded of your lovely laugh whenever the desire arises…"

Erik paused in his work and reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out the piece of paper he had folded so neatly...unfolding it and holding it up to the candlelight--Annabelle's small, neat script illuminated by the small dancing flame. He smiled as he read over the words of the lovely blonde's latest 'gift'.

Eternally apart...  
yet I feel you so very near.  
Though we have never met...  
to me, you are so very dear.

The words were so simple, yet they made Erik's heart flutter and soar like it never had before. He did not recognize the words from any poem he had ever read. It was neither Shakespeare nor Tennyson...nor was it Browning. It certainly was not Poe. Could Annabelle have written the poem herself? How much more lovely this gift would be if that were the case.

The fluttering of Erik's heart increased, and it was a rare, fond smile that spread over the former Opera ghost's face as he replayed the events that had led up to Annabelle's 'gift'. Erik still did not know what had possessed him to cover Annabelle's bed with rose petals, but he had done it. He had gone up to the lovely girl's room with several bouquets of both pink and orange roses and had carefully removed each petal from the flowers one by one before arranging them all over the bed.

Erik could still hear the lovely Annabelle's small squeal of girlish excitement and delight upon finding her bed covered with rose petals. He could still see her joyful smile as she gathered a handful of the petals in both her little hands and buried her nose into them so she might breathe in their sweet fragrance. How it had delighted Erik to know that he had made the object of his affection and desire so happy. It had filled him with a child-like delight…he had never been able to make Christine that happy…

He had not however expected what had happened next...

Annabelle had stripped herself of her clothing and undergarments as was her usual pattern, but instead of slipping into her nightgown, Erik's eyes had widened as he saw the small blond loosen her golden hair from its confines, climb onto the bed in her perfect, naked glory and lay down amongst the petals...sighing softly in delight upon feeling their soft, silkiness against her naked skin.

As Erik watched Annabelle rolling around amongst the petals--comfortable in the belief that no one was watching her-- he had not been able stop himself from unfastening his trousers and freeing his aching hardness from its confines...and he had not been able to stop himself from slowly stroking his throbbing length with one hand while his other gripped the wall.

Last night had not been the first time he had pleasured himself. Dear God no...after years of being denied basic, physical contact, Erik had come to rely on masturbation as his only means of release. However, last night...with the visual stimulation of the girl he had come to covet...was without a doubt the best of Erik's experience. As he watched Annabelle slowly writhe and roll around in simple, innocent delight, he had imagined that she was pinned beneath him and writhing in ecstasy from the pleasure he was giving her as he drove into her again and again--his hips thrusting into his hand as though he were actually thrusting into the lovely girl.

How he had managed to keep his panting breaths silent was still a mystery to Erik--especially when his hand quickened its pace. Even more of a mystery was how he had managed to keep himself from roaring Annabelle's name as he exploded in blissful release...staining the back of Annabelle's mirror with his seed.

Erik sighed at the memory. "No doubt that will as close as my seed will ever get to that lovely angel...as close as I will ever get to claiming her," he mused ruefully as he recalled how his abandoned seed had dripped slowly down the back of Annabelle's mirror--rejected by the world just as he himself had been. "No unfortunate child of mine will ever have the privileged blessing to grow within the womb of Beauty. An angel cannot carry a demon." Erik sighed once more. "Annabelle is far too good for that...and she is far too good for me."

Erik gazed down at the paper he still clutched in his hand...reading over the sweet words once more.

"But still...could she perhaps feel something as well?" Erik turned his gaze towards the divan where Tatiana was sleeping curled up on a velvet pillow. "What do you think, my pretty?" he inquired softly of the feline. "You have certainly taken a liking to the girl," he said as he stood and slowly strode to the divan, sitting down beside Tatiana who opened her eyes and slowly lifted her head upon her master's arrival. "Should I stop being a ghost and start being a man?"

Tatiana mewed softly before uncurling her body, stretching and crawling into Erik's lap--standing on her hind paws and lightly batting at the unmasked half of her master's face.

Erik smiled and chuckled softly, though his heart pounded in his chest at the risk he was taking. "Very well, little one," he said as he stroked the elegant feline's fur with an affectionate hand. "We'll do it your way."

* * *

Annabelle sat back on her heels and wiped her brow with the back of her hand. She was almost finished scrubbing the floor of the main hall, and was just about to start in on the last few remaining feet when she was greeted by a soft mew. Smiling, the small blond turned and lightly ran a hand over Tatiana's silken fur. "Well hello there, little lovely. And what've you gotten yourself into today, hm?"

Tatiana rubbed herself against Annabelle's hand before sitting down so she was facing the small girl.

It was then that Annabelle noticed the small scroll of paper tied to Tatiana's collar. "Is this for me?"

Tatiana mewed softly and lightly bumped Annabelle's hand before batting at it with a paw--trying to direct it towards the scroll.

Annabelle giggled softly. "I'll take that as a yes," she said as she carefully removed the scroll from the feline's collar and unrolled it...reading the contents of the note.

Good afternoon, mademoiselle.  
I wish very much to speak to you.  
Stop whatever it is you are doing and come to me.  
Tatiana will be your guide.

Annabelle felt her heart race in her throat, and her breath caught in her throat as she tore her eyes from the precise writing of the script to look the cat in the eye. "Who is this from, Tatiana?" she asked softly.

Tatiana responded by turning and padding a small ways down the corridor before stopping and looking over her shoulder at Annabelle, mewing softly--obviously wanting her to follow.

The floor completely forgotten, Annabelle dropped the scrub brush into the bucket and rose to her feet before following the cat. "Where are we going, Tatiana?"

The feline made no response with the exception of stopping to look over her shoulder every so often to ensure that Annabelle was still following her. After leading the way around several corners and through different corridors, Tatiana finally came to a stop in front of the large, wooden door of Monsieur Dessler's music room.

Annabelle's eyes widened a little and she looked down at the cat with a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "Tatiana, what are we--"

The feline rose up onto her hind legs and scratched at the door with both front paws, then sat on her haunches and looked up at Annabelle expectantly...mewing for emphasis.

Annabelle sighed. "All right...I can take a hint," she said as she raised a hand to the door and tentatively knocked. In all the times she had knocked before to attempt access to the room in order to clean, she had always been answered with a thundering silence that denied her entrance. Imagine then her surprise to hear a male voice actually answer.

"Enter."

The voice was unlike any Annabelle had ever heard before...calm and almost hypnotic, yet with an air of commanding dominance...and Annabelle found she could not refuse it. Her heart thundered in her chest as she stared at the door. This was after all the first time Annabelle would ever see the master of the house, and her blood ran cold at the thought that she may have done something to anger him. What if Monsieur Dessler wished to speak with Annabelle in order to inform her of being dismissed from his home? Was she going to be turned out onto the streets?

Despite her mounting fear, the petite blond realized that she would not find her answer on her current side of the door. With that in mind, Annabelle squared her shoulders in attempts to summon her courage...and it was with a deep breath that the petite blond turned the doorknob, slowly pushed the door open, and tentatively stepped inside into the darkness of the awaiting room...


	6. Chapter 6

Please review! I love hearing from my readers! I live for reviews, and I do in fact allow anonymous reviews, so don't be shy! Please note that all flamers will be strung up with the Punjab lasso.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'Phantom of the Opera' (any of the renditions) or any of the cannon characters...unfortunately...(God, I wish I owned Erik!) I'm not making any money from this, I'm just writing this for fun. I do however own Annabelle and any other OCs you may find in the story.

* * *

**Chapter Six**

* * *

Erik's heart thundered in his chest as he heard the door slowly creak open. Standing in front of the glowing fireplace, he leaned against the mantle and gazed into the dancing flames--hoping he had not taken too big of a gamble by deviating from his normal pattern of doing things. All the while, he tried to silence Christine's voice as it whispered through his head and taunted him...telling him over and over again that Belle would and could never be his--that she would betray and abandon him just as she had...just as his mother had. Clenching his hands into fists, Erik gave a violent shake of his head to clear his mind.

The sound of scampering feet alerted him to the arrival of Tatiana, and the former opera ghost turned his head just in time to see the elegant feline jump onto the divan and sit with her tail curled around her paws. "I am taking a great risk here, little feline of mine," he whispered softly to the cat. "I hope you are right about this."

Tatiana simply began licking one of her paws.

Erik sighed softly in response to the cat before turning his attention back to the matter at hand. "Come in mademoiselle, and close the door behind you."

Annabelle did as she was told and closed the door behind her. Her eyes were drawn immediately to the tall, broad-shouldered male figure silhouetted against the fire in the hearth. Though his back was to her and he was on the other side of the room, Annabelle could still feel the man's commanding presence...his power.

There was no doubt in Annabelle's mind that the man was Monsieur Dessler--her lord and master.

"Come closer, mademoiselle," Monsieur Dessler said with a small motion of his hand.

Annabelle took a deep breath and let it out slowly before doing as she was told and it was then that she noticed the unmistakable scent of sandalwood. She stopped dead in her tracks as the realization slammed into her like punch to the stomach.

Monsieur Dessler was her mysterious friend!

Annabelle was hit with a barrage of emotions. She was elated and excited with being able to finally put a face to the presence. Yet she was embarrassed. The poems she had left…what must Monsieur Dessler think of them? Dear God, what must Monsieur Dessler think of her? Lastly, Annabelle was horrified, and could not help but feel a little violated. It had been an actual man watching her throughout the day and secretly visiting her room…laying in her bed!

And Annabelle had been unknowingly fantasizing about him all these weeks...

"Do not be afraid, little one," Dessler said soothingly as he glanced over his shoulder at Annabelle. "Come to me."

Monsieur Dessler's voice tugged at Annabelle's very soul, and she found she could not refuse him. Gathering her resolve, she squared her shoulders before tentatively stepping across the room--coming to a stop about five feet away from her master. She could not stop herself from sweeping her gaze over the back of Monsieur Dessler's body...the black, perfectly groomed hair, the lean but wide shoulders that tapered down into the narrow waist and hips before leading down to a pair of long legs. He was a man who managed to be both elegant and imposing at the same time. His suit was well tailored, and was of the deepest black Annabelle had ever seen. Where it not for the flames dancing in the heart, she had no doubt that she would not be able to differentiate between him and the shadows.

"Sit down."

The small blond began to sit in a small chair not far from where she stood, only to be stopped in mid-motion by Monsieur Dessler's voice.

"No, not there. There, where I can see you," Monsieur Dessler said as he pointed to the divan.

His fingers were long and elegant, and Annabelle could not stop herself from wondering how they would feel running through her hair or brushing over her skin. The small blonde's eyes widened at the sudden and inappropriate thought, and she hurriedly ducked her head to hide the blush that warmed her cheeks. But that did nothing to stop the memories of all her dreams from dancing through her head...dreams and fantasies of Erik and herself tangled together in the winding sheets as Erik took her again and again...

"As you wish, monsieur," Annabelle said softly as she moved to the divan and sat beside Tatiana, who mewed softly at the girl in greeting. She absently stroked the feline's fur as she tried to push the mental images from her mind. But it was no easy task. She only had to breath in Erik's masculine scent to bring the images to the front of her mind.

Why did he have to smell so good?!

Erik took a deep breath before letting out slowly in attempts to slow the pounding of his heart. Belle so close now…closer than she had ever been before. She was finally within Erik's reach. If he wanted to, he could simply reach out and touch her.

And oh, how Erik wanted to touch her!

After almost a month of watching Belle…of coveting her, all Erik wanted to do was touch her. He longed to run his fingers through the girl's golden hair to feel if it was as silken as he had imagined it…just as he longed to feel if Belle's skin was as soft as he thought it would be…

It was only by a thread of self-control that Erik managed to stay where he was…but with the girl's sweet scent being so strong with her close proximity, the former opera ghost was finding it increasingly difficult. Taking another deep breath and letting it out slowly, Erik turned his head just enough so Belle could see the unmasked half of his face. "I am Erik Dessler, petite Belle...and I am the master of this house." He could not help but notice how the dancing flames in the hearth played over Belle's golden tresses...how the soft glow caressed the lovely and delicate face like a lover.

"I'm honored that you would take the time to introduce yourself to me, monsieur," Annabelle said softly. Up until that moment, she had been keeping her eyes respectfully averted to the floor, but at that moment, she chanced a glance up at Erik's face…desperate to put a face to the dark and mysterious lover of her dreams…and her breath caught softly in her throat.

While it was only half of Erik's face that she saw, it was without a doubt, the most handsome face Annabelle had ever seen. His nose was straight and both his chin and jaw line were strong and well formed. She only wished that she could see more of Erik's sensual lips, and she hurriedly averted her eyes back to the floor so it would not seem as though she had been staring.

The smallest of smiles tugged at the corners of Erik's mouth. "If it pleases you to look, ma petite Belle, then by all means look."

Though Annabelle's cheeks flushed at the fact that Erik had caught her watching him, she could not stop her heart from fluttering...the fact that Erik had called her his, was not lost on her. "Forgive me, monsieur," she said softly. "I didn't mean to stare."

They were both silent for several moments after that...their breathing and the crackling of the fire were the only sounds in the room.

Erik was at a loss as to what to say. He had the feeling that Belle knew he was the one who had been visiting her room and leaving her gifts, and when he had felt those lovely eyes upon him, it had felt like a lover's caress. He knew the lovely creature sitting so near to him felt some matter of fondness and possible affection for him...her poems were proof of that. However...those words had been written in the belief that Erik was in fact a lonely ghost. Now that he had revealed to Belle that was in fact not the case, Erik could feel the girl's confusion beating at him.

What where they to say to one another?

How were they to act?

"What is your age?"

"Twenty-one, monsieur," Annabelle answered.

"Do you enjoy your work here?" Erik asked softly...desperate to hear the sweetness of Belle's voice once more.

"Yes, monsieur," Annabelle answered softly.

Within moments, the two of them were once again enveloped in silence.

With the truth of Erik's identity revealed, there was now a master/servant boundary between the both of them that forced them to perform their current dance of stiff politeness. That was the last thing Erik wanted! He had no desire for detached and awkward conversations about the weather and other things that did not matter. Erik wanted to converse with Belle about things that mattered. He wanted to discuss poetry and literature. Knowing that the girl was surprisingly well-read, the former opera ghost knew that any conversation the two of them would share would be meaningful and stimulating. He had never had any of that with Christine.

Christine...

Erik gave his head a violent shake to chase away any thought of the deceitful brunette. She was not here. She was not with him...but Belle was. She was alive and breathing...and she was so very close to him right now. Erik was so desperate to be in Belle's presence...so desperate to know her...to possess her. But he was terrified of frightening her away. He was terrified of opening his heart to her and making himself vulnerable to her...only to have her betray him. Erik was completely petrified by his fear--his mind completely at war with his heart and body.

But even if Erik's fear was not an obstacle, the fact that Belle was his maid still was. The young girl would be far too busy attending to chores around the manor to spend any time with him. Erik's heart ached at all the conversations they would never share...it was hardly a way for the two of them to build a relationship.

It was then that Annabelle softly cleared her throat. "Forgive me, monsieur, but...was there something you wished to speak to me about?" She kept her eyes averted--knowing that if she looked to her master once more, she would have great difficulty looking away again.

"Do you grow tired of me already?" The question came out a little harsher than Erik had intended, but when Bella had suggested leaving him, he could not stop the possessive rage from building within him. "Is being in my presence so distasteful to you? Do you wish to leave my boring presence? Is that it?"

Annabelle's eyes widened and she turned her gaze back to her master. "No, monsieur, that's not it at all!" What had just happened? They were having a normal conversation up until that moment. How could she have so angered her master with such a simple question?

Erik whirled around so he was fully facing the young girl. "Is that so, mademoiselle?" he hissed.

The fire in the hearth cast shadows about the room and made Erik seem as though he were looming over Annabelle, and the small blond could not stop herself from shrinking back. Erik's eyes flashed molten gold and were filled with such a burning intensity that Annabelle could not stop the small, pitiful whimper from escaping her lips as she flinched and tensed in anticipation of a blow. She did not even notice the mask on her master's face. How could she when his eyes frightened her so much? "I swear, monsieur," Annabelle answered meekly...her bottom lip trembling.

Seeing that he was frightening the one he wished to be come better acquainted with, Erik pulled on the reigns of his temper and assumed a more placid demeanor. Frightening the girl would certainly not do. "Then why?" he asked simply. How he longed to kiss and nibble Belle's trembling lip into submission.

When she saw Erik's eyes shift from molten gold to a softer hazel, Annabelle breathed a small sigh of relief and visibly relaxed a little. "Forgive me, monsieur...I didn't mean to upset you. It's just that...I was scrubbing the floors when you sent for me, and I'm afraid Mrs. Pierce will be very angry with me if she should come upon the unfinished floors and my abandoned bucket." It was then that Annabelle noticed the white mask that covered the right side of Erik's face, and she blinked a few times in surprise before turning her gaze to the fire.

In this admission, Erik found his loophole...his way to keep Belle with him always. "Is that all?" he asked softly...a devious smile playing on his lips. "Well, then mademoiselle, let us fix that problem, shall we?" he said as he gave a quick tug to a nearby bell rope.

"Shall I go back to my work then, monsieur?" Annabelle asked softly as she began standing.

"No, you shall not," Erik answered. "Now sit back down."

With confusion crossing her face, Annabelle did as she was told while keeping her eyes averted.

"Why will you not look at me?"

Annabelle could hear the edge on Erik's voice and immediately worked to placate him. "Forgive me, monsieur...but I was afraid that I would anger you if I looked." She chanced a glance at her master before averting her eyes once more.

"Because of my mask?"

"Yes, monsieur," Annabelle answered softly with a small nod.

"Does it frighten you, mademoiselle?"

"No, monsieur, but I did not want you to think that I was staring...so I thought not looking at all would be the best option."

Erik smiled softly. "I see." Before he could stop himself, Erik sat beside the young girl, and gently turned her face towards his own. Her skin was even softer than he had imagined. "You, ma petite Belle, may gaze upon me without fear of reproach," he said softly.

Annabelle chanced giving her master the smallest of smiles. "As you wish, monsieur," she said softly.

"Oh, I do wish it, ma petite," Erik murmured. "Very much." Belle's lips were so close, and his own lips ached to be pressed against them.

"Then it shall be as you like, monsieur," Annabelle answered in a voice barely above a whisper--only too aware of how close her master was to her...and only too aware of how her young and inexperienced body screamed for his. Dear God, what was happening to her? Annabelle never once in her life thought that she could ever feel this way about anyone...yet here she was with her body aching with a growing desire that she never thought was possible to feel. At that moment, all she could do was hope and pray that Erik would not ask her to give herself to him, because at that moment, Annabelle would have done anything her master asked of her.

Something deep inside of Annabelle ached when she saw Erik's eyes shift from hazel to a warm, honey color, and her heart fluttered when her master began slowly inching his face closer to hers...

Erik was suddenly having trouble breathing. Belle's eyes had shifted to a dark indigo as they gazed into his, and those sweet lips slowly parted as they shyly begged for a kiss from his own. God help him if he kissed the lovely girl. God help Annabelle, for Erik did not know if he could stop himself from going further than a simple kiss. He did not know if he would be able to stop himself from trailing soft, nibbling kisses down Belle's elegant neck after possessively claiming her lips. "You really do have beautiful eyes," he whispered as he slowly inched his face ever closer.

"Thank you, monsieur," Annabelle whispered back as her face seemed to tilt itself up to her master's of its own accord. Erik's lips were so close...

There was a sudden knock at the door.

Erik's eyes narrowed and he snarled at being interrupted. "Enter," he said tersely in response, as he stood and turned towards the doorway.

Annabelle pressed a hand to her abdomen to still the fluttering in her belly and slowly took a breath to calm her racing heart. She fanned herself with her free hand in attempts to ease the blush in her cheeks, and her eyes widened in slight fear when Mrs. Pierce entered the room--her face tight with annoyance, no doubt from having come across the unfinished floor on her way to the music room.

"You rang, monsieur?" Her eyes narrowed slightly when she caught sight of Annabelle.

"Yes, madame, I did. I wish for you to make inquiries for a new maid, for I have decided to free Belle of that position."

Annabelle's heart leapt into her throat and tears streamed down her face as she dropped to her knees and clasped her hands in front of her. "Please, monsieur! Please don't turn me out. Whatever I did wrong, I promise not to do it again!"

Erik turned and glanced down at the young girl and gave her the smallest of smiles as he lightly brushed his hand over that golden hair that was softer than silk. "You did nothing wrong, ma petite Belle," he said soothingly. "I simply have a new position for you."

Annabelle blinked and unconsciously leaned into Erik's touch as she lightly dabbed her eyes with her apron. "A new position, monsieur?" she asked meekly.

"Yes, ma petite," he said soothingly.

"A new maid, monsieur?" Mrs. Pierce asked.

"Oui, madame," Erik said as he turned his attention back to the housekeeper. "You see, I have decided to appoint Mademoiselle Warren to the position of my personal attendant, and it would be most difficult, if not impossible, for her to do her job well and to my liking when she has other tasks to worry about."

Annabelle's face was a mask of confusion. Personal attendant? What did that mean? What did this new position entail?

"I understand, sir," Mrs. Pierce said after several moments of silence.

"Good, then make it your top priority," Erik said.

"As you wish, monsieur, but where is the new maid to sleep once she is hired?"

"In Belle's room," Erik answered simply.

"And where is Belle to sleep?"

"In the room next to mine," Erik answered as though it were the most simple answer in the world. "How else would she better be able to attend to me if I am having one of my wakeful nights?"

Mrs. Pierce gave a small nod. "Very well, monsieur."

"Thank you, madame," Erik said with a small, dismissive wave of his hand. "That is all."

"Yes, sir," Mrs. Pierce said as she gave a small bow of her head before turning on her heel and leaving the room, closing the door behind her.

Once the housekeeper was gone, Erik turned and offered Belle his hand...his thumb lightly brushing over those delicate knuckles once that small hand was clasped in his larger one. He gently wiped away any remaining tears from the girl's lovely face. "There is no need for tears, ma petite Belle," he murmured softly. "You are not going anywhere."

There was a firmness to Erik's voice that Annabelle could not even begin to understand, and after taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, she chanced a nervous smile up at her master. "What exactly does my new position entail, monsieur? That is...if I'm allowed to ask."

It was a strange smile that tugged at the corners of Erik's mouth. "It means you are to be by my side unless I instruct you otherwise, ma petite mademoiselle. You are to personally help me in any way that I require. We will converse together, and if I am otherwise occupied with my work or my music, then you are free to entertain yourself however you may please...so long as you remain with me in my presence." Erik slipped a finger under Belle's chin and gently tilted her face up to his. "Do I make myself clear, ma petite Belle?" he asked as his eyes gazed into Belle's. While his voice was soft, it still possessed a commanding dominance.

Annabelle gulped softly. "Yes, monsieur," she answered in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

Erik's heart raced in excitement and his smile grew a fraction of an inch. "Good," he answered softly. "Now," he said as he reached around behind Bell with his free arm. "First order of business," he began as he deftly untied the ribbon that held the girl's golden tresses confined in its braid. "You are never to wear your hair tied completely back," he said as his fingers skillfully unwove that silken hair...his fingers languidly running through it as they combed it out. "Understood?"

Annabelle gave the smallest of nods. "Yes, monsieur."

"Good," Erik said with a small nod before taking a step back and sweeping his eyes over the small blond. "Second order of business...you are only to wear dresses of blues, greens and violets."

"But, monsieur...I don't have any dresses like that. All I have are the two brown ones in my wardrobe and the uniform that I'm wearing now."

Erik smiled and chuckled softly. "Well, then, ma petite...I believe we have some shopping to do."

* * *

**A/N:** And so the plot begins to thicken *evil giggle* ;3


	7. Chapter 7

Please review! I love hearing from my readers! I live for reviews, and I do in fact allow anonymous reviews, so don't be shy! Please note that all flamers will be strung up with the Punjab lasso.

Also, please allow me to apologize for any grammatical errors when using French phrases.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'Phantom of the Opera' (any of the renditions) or any of the cannon characters...unfortunately...(God, I wish I owned Erik!) I'm not making any money from this, I'm just writing this for fun. I do however own Annabelle and any other OCs you may find in the story.

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

_...Kitchen..._

"He made her his what?" Maddie asked incredulously.

"His personal attendant," Mrs. Pierce repeated. "Which means I have to find another girl to replace her and spend time training her," she grumbled as she rubbed her temples. "He's having various shopkeepers and dressmakers come to the manor this afternoon so he can buy Belle some new dresses to suit his whims, and he wants Belle's belongings moved to her new room by the time they finish. Oh, and he wants all of Belle's old clothes burned."

"But why would the master do that?" the cook asked as she placed a fresh cup of tea in front of the housekeeper. "And movin' her to the room next to his?" Her eyes widened. "You don't think that he...?"

"That is none of our concern, Maddie," the housekeeper said as she lifted her cup and sipped the hot beverage.

"But Minerva...she's such a young and innocent thing. What if the master takes advantage of that? Surely it can't be proper. There must be something we can do."

Mrs. Pierce sighed softly. "Belle is a full grown woman, Maddie...and she is quite a lovely creature. A person would have to be blind not to see that." She sipped her tea before sighing once more. "If the master wishes to make the young Belle his mistress at some point, it is not our place to interfere."

"But supposin' he hurts her," Mrs. Smith persisted. "Suppose he forces himself on her and takes her by force...what then? Are you telling me you'd stand by and let that happen, Minerva?"

Mrs. Pierce sighed. "I think it highly unlikely that the master would do such a thing. In the years we have been here, he has been nothing but honorable."

"Yes, Minerva...but in all honesty, the master is a living and breathing man...and there's a damn bit of difference between the two of us and Belle. I find it more likely that the master try something on a young, pretty thing like Belle than either an old, married woman like me or an old widow like you."

The housekeeper sighed. "I know, Maddie. I know. I'll do my best to keep an eye out for the girl, but there's only so much I can do."

The cook nodded. "I know. I'll do the same. Hopefully between the two of us, we'll be able to ensure the girl stays safe."

"Once can only hope, Maddie," Mrs. Pierce said softly as she gazed into her teacup. "Once can only hope."

* * *

_...Drawing room..._

The room was bustling with activity. Not wishing to go into town during the daylight hours, Erik had sent word to several dressmakers and seamstress that he wished to do business with them. Upon receiving word that the reclusive and very wealthy Erik Dessler required new dresses and attire for his 'ward', the shop owners closed their doors and darted off immediately to the Dessler manor. After all...all young ladies needed an extensive wardrobe...especially when it could be afforded.

"No, no, no that style is completely wrong for her," Erik said as he waved away the shopkeeper's assistant who had been in the process of holding up a dress for his inspection. "Look at the size of those sleeves, they are far too big! She is a little person, I don't want her being overpowered by her clothing. It she who wears the dress...not the other way around"

"Yes, sir, right away," the girl said as she hurried off.

Another girl hurried over with another dress of a lovely forest green. "Is this what you had in mind, Monsieur Dessler?"

Erik smiled and gave an approving nod. "Ah, yes. Get it fitted to ma petite Belle immediately."

"Right away Monsieur Dessler," the girl said as she motioned for Annabelle to follow. her. "If you come with me, we'll get the dress fitted to you."

"Go on, ma petite," Erik said with a small smile as he lightly brushed a hand over that golden hair.

"Yes, monsieur," Annabelle said softly with a shy smile as she followed along behind the girl--all the while feeling self-conscious about the state of her poorly fitting uniform.

"Blouses!" Erik ordered. "Show me some blouses! I also wish to see some skirts!"

"Right away, monsieur," several voices chirped as their owners scurried around the room to meet all the demands being thrown at them.

"What of this dress, Monsieur Dessler?" the middle-aged shopkeeper asked as she approached.

Erik glanced over. "I love the cut and the style, but the color is horrible. It would do nothing for the girl."

"If that is all that concerns you, monsieur, we can have another made to Miss Warren's measurements and in a color that you would prefer," the lady offered.

Erik smiled. "Ah, yes...I like that idea very much indeed."

"Very good, sir," the shopkeeper said as she handed the dress to one of her workers. "And will we be looking at any evening dresses, monsieur?"

Erik looked at the shopkeeper as though she had just started speaking Japanese. "Do you even need to ask, madame? Of course we shall be looking at evening dresses!" Erik fully intended on taking his lovely companion to the theater and the opera with him. No longer living below ground, he was living a normal existence for the first time in his life, albeit a secluded one, and he intended to take advantage of it now...and what better way was there to enjoy an opera than with the company of a lovely lady? "Show me whatever samples you have, immediately, and be prepared to take ma petite's measurements in the event that I do not like anything that you have on hand."

"Yes, monsieur. Right away!"

Erik clapped his hands. "And she shall be needing new shoes and undergarments as well. No, no, no...that bustle is far too big! It would look ridiculous on her. Something much smaller if you please. Snap to it!"

"Yes, monsieur!"

* * *

_...Annabelle's new bedroom..._

As she sat on the edge of her new bed in her new bedroom, Annabelle still could not believe it. She knew it had all happened...after all, she had been there the entire time while everything was going on, but she still could not quite wrap her mind around it. It had all happened so fast...

Her day had started off normal enough. She had awakened early as per her usual pattern and had made her bed after dressing and then hurried downstairs for a quick breakfast before starting on her chores for the day. She was to scrub the floors. That was what Mrs. Pierce had instructed her to do, and that was what Annabelle had been doing...until Tatiana had paid her a visit.

Then her entire life changed.

No longer did she dwell in the small and cold attic room, but in a large bedroom with a hearth, a large canopy bed and elegant furniture. No longer did her wardrobe consist of only two, worn and ill-fitting dresses, but of several new outfits befitting that of a proper, young lady. She was no longer the maid, but Erik Dessler's constant companion.

Erik...

Annabelle's heart fluttered strangely in her bosom at the thought of her master. Monsieur Dessler was a peculiar man to say the least...that much was clear to the young lady. There was a passion and intensity to the masked man that Annabelle had never seen in any other one person, and his emotions were very volatile--often changing back and forth between several extremes. Erik could be kind and polite just as easily as he could be fearsome and imposing. He could be shy and uncertain just as easily as he could be a force of untamed sexual energy...appealing to something so deep within Annabelle that she could not even begin to describe it.

And he wanted Annabelle with him at all times.

Annabelle's heart fluttered once again at that thought as she got up from the bed and slowly moved to the large wardrobe--the small heels of her new boots softly tapping against the polished, hardwood floor. With him at all times? Annabelle supposed there could be worse ways to spend her time...after all, Monsieur Dessler was a very handsome man, and the mask he wore did nothing to detract from that.

As Annabelle opened the doors to the wardrobe, she found she could not stop thinking about her dark and mysterious master and benefactor while she slowly ran her hands over the new dresses he had bought for her. They were all in the colors Erik had wanted--colors that were meant to compliment Annabelle's complexion and bring out the color of her unusual eyes. The controlling nature of her master aside, the small blond had to admit that he had impeccable taste.

All of the dresses hanging in Annabelle's wardrobe were simple yet very elegant...meant to flatter the smallness of her frame instead of overpower it, and Erik had steadfastly refused to follow the latest fashions regarding the size of Annabelle's bustle. He had been very adamant in his refusal of employing the use of a large bustle and instead opted for ones that were much smaller; and the small blond would be lying if she said she did not feel relieved at that.

Not all the dresses had been fitted and finished in time of course. Erik had ordered so many things and had been so very particular in how he wanted them. Annabelle did not think she needed so many items of clothing and had in fact tried to express this to Erik, only to have her master caress her hair in that reverent yet possessive way of his as he told her not to worry herself with such things.

The sound of scratching at her door pulled Annabelle from her reverie and she turned away from her wardrobe and walked to the door. Tatiana padded into the room the moment the small blond had opened the door and immediately leapt onto the bed--turning and mewing softly at the girl.

Annabelle smiled and giggled softly as she walked back to the bed, not bothering to close the door again. "Well, hello little one," she said as she stroked the feline's soft fur--instantly being rewarded with a soft purr. The small blond gently scooped the elegant cat up into her arms and gently rubbed her chin along the top of Tatiana's angular head as she walked to the window seat and sat down. "What am I to expect, little one?" she asked the cat softly. "Do you know? Oh, how I wish you could tell me."

"Is your new room to your liking, ma petite?"

Annabelle looked up with a small start to find Erik standing in her doorway--his hip lazily resting against the door frame as a small, unreadable smile played upon his lips. The small blond could not help but notice how very cat-like Erik appeared at that very moment. "Yes, monsieur," she answered softly with a shy smile.

"Good," Erik said with the smallest of nods.

"Thank you, monsieur."

Erik blinked. "For what?"

"For everything." Annabelle stood from the window seat and walked back over to her bed so she could deposit Tatiana somewhere comfortable. Her arms now free from the elegant feline, she moved around the bed and strode to the doorway so she was standing about a foot away from Erik. She was not afraid of him. Despite the earlier display of his temper, Erik had not harmed her in any way, nor had he shown any intention of doing so. In her heart of hearts, Annabelle knew she had nothing to fear from her master.

"You've been so kind to me, monsieur," Annabelle said softly as she tentatively closed the distance between the two of them, stood up on tip-toe and shyly pressed a chaste kiss to Erik's cheek. "Thank you," she whispered.

Erik's entire body stiffened in response when he felt Belle's soft lips brush so sweetly over his skin, and it was all he could do to not grab the lovely girl and press her hard to him as he claimed those tempting lips with his own. Instead, he contented himself with slowly caressing Belle's silken hair of gold. "You are most welcome, ma petite Belle," he murmured softly as he fought the impulse to brush his lips over the girl's delicate brow.

Belle was the first person to ever really thank Erik for anything. The Shah of Persia certainly never expressed his thanks for all Erik had done for him. Such things were beneath him. For all the time and effort he had devoted to Christine and the training of her voice...for all the pieces of his heart and soul that he gave her, Erik never once heard words of thanks uttered from her lips. The people he did business with here in the city never once thanked him for the work he did for them. Why should they? As far as they were concerned, Erik was simply doing his job.

But Belle...

From the very first gift Erik had ever given her, Belle had thanked him. Every flower, every ribbon...Belle had thanked him for all of them. It had always been with words or simple verses of poetry...but now, it was with a kiss that she thanked him. The lovely girl had not kissed him out of pity, nor had she kissed him out of the desire to save the life of another...and while it had been a chaste kiss, Erik felt neither pity nor fear behind it. There had been a genuine warmth behind the kiss which was something Erik had never experienced before in his life. But as pleasant as that was, that was not the driving force behind the joy growing within him...

As shy and timid as Belle could be, Erik knew she was not afraid of him. He could feel it...and it filled him with such joy!

"You look very lovely," he said softly with a small smile as he took in the hunter green skirt and cream-colored blouse the lovely blond was wearing, and his heart fluttered when Belle smiled at him.

"Thank you, monsieur," Annabelle said shyly. "But I'm afraid I can't take all the credit...you have quite excellent taste."

Erik slid a finger under Belle's delicate chin and gently tilted her face up to his. "Ma petite...when we are alone like this, please call me by my given name," he said softly. A soft and charming blush colored Belle's cheeks, and Erik had to restrain himself from brushing his lips against those soft cheeks.

"If that is what you wish," Annabelle said softly.

"It is," Erik murmured softly. "Very much so."

Annabelle smiled sweetly. "As you wish...Erik."

The moment he heard his name on Belle's sweet voice, Erik thought he would weep. His eyes fluttered closed and he could not stop himself from placing a hand over his heart. "Oh, Belle..." he murmured in a voice just barely above a whisper. There were no words to express the intense joy and pleasure that Erik felt from the simple act of hearing his name on the voice of a beautiful woman without so much as a hint of fear.

Annabelle blinked before her eyes widened a little in concern. "Erik?" She lightly brushed her fingertips over her master's unmasked cheek. "Are you all right?" she asked softly as she gently wiped away the single tear that had started rolling down Erik's cheek.

Erik smiled and opened his eyes as he took Annabelle's hand in his own and pressed the softest of kisses to her knuckles. "I couldn't be better, ma petite ange."

Angel...

Erik had called Annabelle his angel...and the small blonde's heart had fluttered wildly.

"Come," Erik said with a smile as he tucked Belle's little hand in the crook of his arm. "We will have supper now, and then after that I have a surprise for you."

Annabelle blinked as she allowed Erik to lead the both of them down the hall. "A surprise?"

"Oui," Erik said with a nod.

"For me?"

"Yes." There was a rare, mirthful twinkle in Erik's eye and an almost child-like smile on his face--making him look ten years younger.

"But Erik...you've already given me so much..."

Erik placed his free hand over the small hand in the crook of his arm. "As long as I am able, I will continue to bestow gifts and surprises upon you, ma petite ange."

"But why?" Annabelle asked softly, unable to comprehend such a thing.

Erik smiled down at Annabelle, his eyes a warm honey color. "Because they bring you joy, ma petite...and your joy gives me more pleasure than you could possibly imagine."

* * *

_...Kitchen..._

"I could hardly believe it," Bruce Smith, the groundskeeper said as he leaned against the doorway leading to the pantry and sipped the tea his wife had made for him. "It's been hours since the master asked me ta chop down a Christmas tree, and I still can't believe it."

"The master has never celebrated Christmas before...not in the years that we've worked for him. Today just seems to be a day for changes, doesn't it?" the cook asked as she looked to her husband before turning her gaze to the housekeeper who had just returned from serving Erik and Annabelle their supper. "How do things seem?"

"Innocent and harmless enough," Mrs. Pierce said a she made a cup of tea for herself. "The master is treating the young Belle as more of a companion than a servant. They were discussing Shakespeare when I left."

The cook blinked. "A maid who knows Shakespeare?"

"It would appear so," the housekeeper said as she sat down.

"Do you think he plans on making her his mistress?" Mrs. Smith asked.

"Honestly, I have no idea," Mrs. Pierce said as she sipped her tea. "From what I could see, the master wasn't making any advances on the girl...but that is always subject to change with time..."

Bruce blinked. "Wait...make her his mistress? That little, young thing? But she's just barely a woman."

"She is still a woman, Bruce," the housekeeper said simply. "A very lovely one at that."

"And though the master may be at least twelve years her senior, he is still a man of flesh and blood, my dear," the cook told her husband chidingly.

"Twelve years?" the groundskeeper asked. "Do you even know how old he is?"

"He has never said," Mrs. Pierce answered. "And we have never asked."

"He could very well be old enough to be the girl's father," Bruce muttered.

"Oh, I don't think he's quite that old," the cook said thoughtfully.

"Either way, it is none of our concern," the housekeeper said firmly. "So long as the master doesn't harm the girl, then there is no cause or reason for us to interfere."

"But to let such a thing go on..."

"We don't know for a fact that anything is in fact going on, Maddie," Mrs. Pierce said with a small sigh. "In the years we have worked for Monsieur Dessler, he has always been solitary and reclusive...preferring to be alone." She stared into the contents of her teacup. "Perhaps the master is finally feeling the loneliness of his solitude and is reaching out to someone."

"But why Belle?" Mrs. Smith asked. "Why not a woman more equal to his wealth?"

The housekeeper gave a small shrug of her shoulders before sipping her tea. "Who can say for sure? But perhaps Fate had a reason for putting Belle in the master's path...and who are we to question the workings of Fate?"

* * *

_...Music room, two hours later..._

"No peeking, ma petite," Erik said with a smile as he carefully led Belle into the music room.

"I promise I won't," the lovely girl said with the softest of giggles.

After closing the door behind them, Erik skillfully led the small blond through the candlelit room before bringing her to a stop in front of the hearth which had a roaring fire burning away to chase away the chill of the winter night. "All right," Erik said with a small smile. "You may open your eyes now, ma petite." He watched while Belle opened her eyes and his smile grew as he watched the lovely girl's face light up as she took in the sight of the large Christmas tree. How he loved it when Belle smiled...the way her beautiful eyes sparkled like two rare jewels.

"Oh, Erik...it's so big! I've never seen a Christmas tree this big before."

In truth, neither had Erik. This was his first time ever celebrating Christmas. He had been denied the holiday as a child, and had come to despise it over the years. It had been a constant reminder of what he had never had...of what he believed he would never have...family and love.

But things were different now.

Erik now had Belle in his life, and while they were far from being lovers, at the very least they had the very beginnings of a friendship. Erik only had to nurture that friendship until it blossomed into the all-consuming love of his dreams and deepest fantasies. It would take time, there was no doubt about that. Erik was determined to ensure that things went right with Belle, and that sort of thing took a great deal of time and energy.

But Erik was nothing if not methodical.

He was willing to take as much time as was necessary in order to assure that things went well with Belle. After all, with Belle always by his side, Erik was going to have plenty of opportunities to make her smile...plenty of opportunities to make her fall in love with him. Most importantly, there would be no chance for a handsome young man to steal Belle away from him. It was a satisfied smile that tugged on the corners of Erik's mouth at that thought. There would be no mistakes this time. Come Hell or high water, the lovely blond would be his. "So, do you really like it?"

"Oh, yes I do," Annabelle said with a small twirl of excitement, her delighted smile still firmly in place on her lips. "When can we decorate it?"

Erik chuckled softly, finding Belle's excitement to be completely and utterly adorable. "I'll send Madame Pierce shopping for ornaments tomorrow."

"But tomorrow's Christmas Eve."

"Yes, and there will be plenty of time to decorate the tree tomorrow night. I rather think it would be a wonderful way to spend the evening, don't you agree, ma petite?" Erik blinked in confusion upon seeing Belle's smile falter. "What is it?"

"I just realized that I won't have anything to put under the tree for you," Annabelle said softly as she averted her eyes and hung her head.

Erik felt his heart swell. A present? Belle was sad because she could not give him a present? The idea of presents was so alien to Erik...the only present he had ever received in his life was a mask from his mother. Yet, the sweet girl standing before him wanted to bestow a gift upon him. She was truly an angel sent down from Heaven, and now that Erik had her in his grasp, he refused to let her go. "You are so very sweet, ma petite ange," Erik said softly as he slowly closed the distance between them. "But I do not require any gifts from you...not when you have already given me the most precious gift of all."

"What?" Annabelle asked softly as she shyly looked up into her master's face and gazed into his eyes. They were that warm, honey color again, and the small blond felt something stirring deep inside of her. "What have I given you?" she asked softly.

Erik felt he would drown in Belle's eyes as he gazed into their dark, blue depths. Tentatively, as though he were afraid Belle would suddenly disappear, Erik cupped the girl's delicate and angelic face in his hands...hands that were so skilled in causing pain and death, were now so painstakingly gentle and tender. "You."


	8. Chapter 8

Please review! I love hearing from my readers! I live for reviews, and I do in fact allow anonymous reviews, so don't be shy! Please note that all flamers will be strung up with the Punjab lasso!

Also, please allow me to apologize for any grammatical errors when using French phrases.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'Phantom of the Opera' (any of the renditions) or any of the cannon characters...unfortunately...(God, I wish I owned Erik!) I'm not making any money from this, I'm just writing this for fun. I do however own Annabelle and any other OCs you may find in the story.

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

_...Dining room; the next morning..._

"Did you sleep well, ma petite?" Erik asked before taking a sip of his coffee.

Annabelle smiled somewhat shyly as she poured some milk into her coffee. "Yes, thank you," she said as she dropped two lumps of sugar into her cup. "And yourself?"

Erik smiled. "Better than I have in a while, actually."

"Well, that's good," Annabelle said before sipping her coffee.

"Indeed, yes," Erik said with a nod. "Did you find your bed comfortable?"

"Yes, very much so," the small blond answered...the tips of her ears turning a soft shade of pink.

"Good," Erik said with a nod as he sat back in his chair and regarded the small blond over the edge of his cup. "You look very lovely this morning, ma petite," he said with a slow smile as he took in the sight of the girl he coveted as she wore a simple dress of a lovely sapphire blue which made her eyes appear like two oceans in which Erik so desperately wanted to drown. He noted with satisfaction that half of her golden hair was tied back with a matching length of blue ribbon that he had gifted upon her while she was still his maid.

Annabelle smiled shyly, and the softest of blushes colored her cheeks. "Thank you, Erik," she said softly. They were alone, so she could call her master by his given name.

"I speak only the truth, cherie," Erik said as he put his cup down. "Well, what shall we do today?"

Annabelle was silent for a few moments as she thought, before a small smile spread over her face. "We can go into town and shop for Christmas ornaments."

Erik shook his head. "No, ma petite. Mrs. Pierce shall handle that, as she is going into town anyway to seek out a maid to replace you."

The blush returned to Annabelle's cheeks. "I'm sorry to be such a bother," she said softly.

Erik raised both eyebrows. "A bother?"

Annabelle nodded. "Yes...you're short-staffed now."

Erik chuckled softly. "You, ma petite are not a bother. You are a joy," he said with a soft smile. "And you are far more pleasurable to me in your current position than you were as the maid." He tilted his head to the side a little. "Do you object to your new position?" he asked softly.

"No, monsieur...I mean, Erik," Annabelle said with a small shake of her head. "I'm very grateful for all that you've done for me and all the kindness you've shown me. Truly I am," she said with a shy smile.

"That is good to hear," Erik said softly with a smile as he admired the lovely girl sitting at the table with him.

"All right, well...if we can't go into town, then..." Annabelle drifted off in thought before offering Erik a hopeful smile. "Can we go for a walk? At least through the gardens?"

Erik smiled. "Very well," he said as he pushed back his chair and stood. "Be sure to bundle up, ma petite Belle," he said as he rang the small bell on the edge of the table to signal that he and Belle were finished with their meal. "We don't want you catching cold, now do we?"

* * *

_...Gardens..._

Ten minutes later, with gloves on her little hands and a warm cloak fastened around her shoulders, Annabelle placed her hand in the crook of Erik's arm and allowed him to lead her out into the gardens of the manor. The small blond was deep in thought as they moved down the path that wound through the myriad of flowers.

"You are very quite, Belle," Erik observed softly after several moments. "Is there something on your mind, ma petite?"

"It's just..." Annabelle averted her eyes.

"Yes?"

"Everything you've done for me..." A soft blush colored her cheeks. "It's been a long time since I've received gifts or a kind word from anyone...especially without rhyme or reason," the small blond said softly. "I'm not used to receiving such kindness."

A ghost of a smile played upon Erik's lips. "What a pair we make," he mused with a small chuckle. "I, in turn, am not accustomed to giving such kindness," he admitted softly. "For you see...I find there are very few people in this world who deserve any kindness or good will from me."

"Only few?" Annabelle asked softly.

"Oui, ma petite," Erik said with a small nod as he stopped upon reaching a small bench in the very center of the flower garden and motioned for his companion to sit before sitting down himself...his heavy, black cloak billowing around him as though it were alive. "I have traveled to many places around the globe, and I have seen much ugliness in the world. I have seen and experienced the cruelty of Man many times over. The world is an ugly place...ready to tear down beauty and purity just as soon as ridicule and attack what it fears and does not understand."

"Is that why you choose to isolate yourself from others and the world?" Annabelle asked softly...timidly, as though afraid to anger the mysterious man sitting with her.

Erik gave a small nod of acknowledgement. "In part, ma petite," he answered softly. "There is very little in the world with which I would willingly associate or bestow good will upon." The ghost of a smile returned to Erik's lips, and his eyes warmed slightly as he gazed upon the lovely blond. "You are one of the fortunate few who fall within the sheltered harbor of my kindness. You are worthy whereas others are not." He sighed. "But alas, as you said about yourself, I am inexperienced in this sort of thing. Perhaps this is something we can both muddle through together."

Annabelle smiled sweetly at her master and benefactor. "I'm greatly honored that you find me worthy of your kindness and good will...though I must admit, I have no idea what has made me worthy as you put it."

Erik's smile grew a fraction of an inch, and he leaned forward to gently cup the side of Annabelle's delicate face in one hand. "You, my sweet Belle, are a pillar of light in the harsh darkness of this world. That is what makes you worthy."

Annabelle was leaning into Erik's touch before she could stop herself, and her eyes slowly drifted closed as her heart fluttered at his words and a soft blush colored her cheeks.

"Is it any wonder that I would cleave to you?" Erik asked softly as he brought his other hand to Annabelle's other cheek. "Is it any wonder why I would want you always with me, Belle? I have watched you since the first moment you stepped foot in my home, and I have come to determine that your beauty does not end with your appearance...but continues down to your heart and into your very soul."

Annabelle's eyes opened at this. "But you can't be serious," she protested softly. "How can you know such things when you know nothing about me?"

Erik's smile grew once more. "You are correct, ma petite. For all my watchfulness, I know very little about you, Belle...which is why I want you to tell me everything there is to know about yourself." He lightly traced his thumb over Annabelle's bottom lip. "But oh, so very slowly, and in painstaking detail...so that it takes a very, very long time."

"But..." Annabelle could not stop the shiver from racing through her spine as Erik's thumb caressed her lip. "But I wouldn't even know where to begin," she said softly.

Erik chuckled softly. "At the beginning, ma petite. When were you born?"

"The twentieth of February, in the year eighteen hundred and fifty-eight."

She was three years younger than Christine, yet Erik noted silently that there was a maturity about Belle that Christine did not possess. "There, now was that so difficult?" There was a slight teasing tone to Erik's voice.

Annabelle giggled softly. "No, I suppose it wasn't."

Erik smiled as he brought his hands down slowly from Annabelle's face and tentatively took her hands in his own. "Where were you born, ma petite?"

"Philadelphia." Annabelle could not help but marvel how long and elegant Erik's fingers were as they closed around her hand.

Erik gave a small nod of acknowledgement. "And what of your family?"

Annabelle stiffened and averted her eyes. "I have no family," she said softly. "Both my parents died when I was very young. I spent my childhood in an orphanage, and when I was old enough to leave, I did so...working my way west since there was nothing holding me in the city of my birth." She kept her eyes fixed to the ground and prayed that Erik would not delve anymore into her past. There were a great, many things Annabelle had left out because she was not yet ready to revisit them...

And she doubted if she ever would be.

"I am sorry, ma petite," Erik said softly as he released those small hands and once again gently cupped that delicate and angelic face in his murderous hands...his lethal fingers infinitely tender as they caressed the lovely girl's soft skin. "Forgive me...I did not mean to upset you."

Annabelle smiled softly and slowly raised her hands...tentatively resting them upon Erik's. "There's nothing to forgive, Erik," she said softly. "You didn't know."

"My poor petite Belle," Erik murmured softly as he leaned in and pressed the lightest of kisses to Annabelle's forehead. "All alone in the world at so young an age. That is something we have in common, it would seem."

"Oh?" Annabelle asked softly.

Erik nodded slowly. "I never knew my father, and I ran away from home when I was eight."

"Why?"

"My mother was cruel to me...not caring if I lived or died."

Annabelle's eyes were filled with disbelief. "But why? Why would a mother behave so horribly to her own child?"

Erik was silent for several moments before finally answering bitterly through a slightly clenched jaw as he looked away. "I wasn't what she wanted," he said as he removed his hands once more from Annabelle's face and let them drop into his lap. He turned his body so he was no longer facing the girl but showing the masked half of his profile.

Annabelle's heart bled for the tragic man sitting beside her. His own mother did not want him? The small blond could not imagine such a thing. While her memories of her own mother were few, they were all happy ones. As brief as her time was with her parents, Annabelle knew they had loved her dearly. "Oh, Erik," she said softly as she reached for him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Erik caught sight of Annabelle's hand and he flew into action as his mind filled with the memory of Christine's betrayal--automatically assuming the small blond intended to follow in her footsteps. He snarled wordlessly and his eyes flashed molten gold as he tightly gripped the girl's delicate wrist in his hand.

Annabelle whimpered in pain and her eyes widened in fear. "I wasn't going to remove it, I swear!"

"So you say," Erik hissed as he narrowed his eyes into dangerous slits. "But how do I know for certain? How do I know for certain that you won't tear at my mask like other inquisitive girls have done? Curious, curious girls...unable to resist that which is off limits to them...Eve with the apple, Pandora with the box of Man's evils...history and myths are filled with women such as these. How am I to know that you are not just like them, mademoiselle?" He tightened his grip on the girl's wrist--able to break it if he so chose.

Though she winced and whimpered in pain, Annabelle met Erik's gaze head on. "Because it's not my place to forcibly see what you take such great pains to hide from me," she answered softly. She squirmed a little in attempts to free her wrist. "Erik, please," she pleaded meekly. "You're hurting me."

As Annabelle's words played Erik's mind, his eyes widened and his heart stopped in his chest when he saw the combined looks of pain and terror on the girl's face. Dear God, what had he done?! He slowly loosened his grip on that delicate wrist and contrition flooded his face when he saw the dark bruises already beginning to form. "Oh, Belle..." his voice was barely above a whisper. "Ma petite Belle...I am so, so sorry," he said as he gently brought Annabelle's wrist to his lips and pressed feather light kisses to the bruises. "Please...please, please forgive me, I beg of you."

Annabelle could not ignore the ache deep in her abdomen upon feeling Erik's lips brushing the sensitive skin of her wrist, and her heart melted at the expression on Erik's face filled with horror at what he had done. With her free hand, Annabelle hesitantly reached out and tentatively caressed the unmasked half of the man's face. "I forgive you," she said softly.

Erik sighed with relief and closed his eyes as he leaned into Annabelle's palm. "Merci, ma petite ange. Belle...my sweet, little angel...thank you. Thank you so much." He could not stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks.

Annabelle scooted closer to Erik and freed her wrist from him so she could gently wipe away his tears with the edge of her cloak. "I give you my word, Erik...I will never remove your mask." Her voice was soft but resolved. "I promise you."

Erik said nothing at first but dropped to his knees on the ground, wrapped his arms around Annabelle's knees and rested his head on her lap. "Thank you Belle...thank you. You truly are an angel from Heaven."

Annabelle simply smiled gently and shifted so she could drape her cloak around Erik while he was in his current position. Letting her hands rest lightly on the tragic man's back, the small blond said nothing as she simply bowed her head over his and enveloped him in a cocoon of warm understanding and acceptance.

* * *

_...Music room; late afternoon..._

"Enter," Erik said upon hearing the knock at the door. He looked up from examining the newly purchased Christmas ornaments as Mrs. Pierce entered the room wheeling in a small cart.

"The hot chocolate you requested, monsieur, as well as a letter that just arrived."

"Thank you, Madame Pierce, you can just leave the cart there by the piano," Erik said in reply.

"Thank you for going and getting ornaments for the tree, Mrs. Pierce," Annabelle said with a smile from her seat on the divan as she stroked a sleeping Tatiana's fur while she examined a delicate ornament made of glass.

The housekeeper simply nodded. "The new maid will be starting tomorrow. Will there be anything else, monsieur?"

"No, thank you, madame," Erik replied with a small, dismissive wave of his hand before turning back to the project at hand. Once the housekeeper had left, Erik put the ornament down carefully and went to the cart.

"Oh, I can do that, Erik," Annabelle said as she started to wake the sleeping feline so she could get up.

"No, it's all right, ma petite. You stay where you are. There is no need to disturb Tatiana over something I can do myself," Erik said with a small smile before pouring steaming hot chocolate from the decanter and into two tea cups. The sweet sound Annabelle's giggles drew his attention back to the girl, and his smile only grew when he saw a now awake Tatiana completely transfixed by the refracted light of the fire in the hearth as it played through the glass ornament in Annabelle's hand. "What is your favorite color, Belle?" Erik asked as he tucked the letter into his pocket before striding over to the divan with the two cups in hand.

"Purple," Annabelle said without a second thought as she gently stroked Tatiana under her chin.

Erik smiled as he sat down beside the lovely blond. "How fortunate then that it looks so becoming on you," he said as he handed one of the cups and saucers to the girl.

Annabelle's eyes lit up and she carefully put the ornament down so she could accept the cup. She smiled and closed her eyes as she inhaled the chocolaty scent. "I haven't had hot chocolate...or any other kind of chocolate since before my parents died," she said before slowly took a sip.

"Is it as good as you remember?" Erik asked with a smile.

"Oh, yes," Annabelle breathed softly after swallowing. "I'd almost forgotten how good chocolate tasted."

Erik made a mental note of that as he sipped his own beverage and reached into his pocket for the letter. He placed his cup on the small table beside the divan and opened the envelope...his eyes scanning the contents of the embellished card that had been inside. "It's from Leland Stanford."

"Is he a client of yours?" Annabelle asked.

"Amongst other things," Erik answered.

"What other things?" Annabelle asked with a curious blink.

"He happens to be one of the four...well, actually now it's three...most affluent and wealthy men in San Francisco. He commissioned me two years ago to build his mansion."

"Oh, is that what you do, Erik? Are you an architect?" Annabelle's face lit up at the prospect of learning something about her benefactor.

Erik gave a small nod. "It is one of my professions, yes."

Annabelle smiled. "It must be fascinating to see something of your own creation take shape like that. Do you think maybe one day you could show me some of your work?"

Erik's heart fluttered in his chest and he could not stop the pleased smile from playing upon his lips. "If you like."

"I would," Annabelle said with a smile before sipping her hot chocolate.

Though the pleased smile remained, Erik shyly averted his eyes for a moment. "His business partner Mark Hopkins was a client of mine as well," he said. "After he saw the work I did for Monsieur Stanford, he and his wife commissioned me to build a mansion for them. However...Monsieur Hopkins died last year, so now I am employed singularly by his wife to finish construction of their home."

"Oh, how sad that he died before he could live in his new home," Annabelle said softly. "Is Stanford commissioning more work for you? Is that why he's writing?"

"Nothing so enjoyable," Erik answered wryly. "He is inviting me to his New Year's Eve party."

Annabelle blinked in confusion. "That's a bad thing?"

Erik rolled his eyes and tucked the invitation back into the envelope. "It is a formality I would much rather forgo. I do not enjoy being amongst people an I avoid it whenever possible."

"Oh," Annabelle said softly before sipping her hot chocolate.

Erik was silent for several moments before smiling softly at the lovely girl sitting beside him. "Although...if you attend the party with me, it might not be so difficult to endure."

Annabelle blinked. "Are you asking me to go to the party with you?" she asked softly.

"Yes," Erik said with a nod before reaching out and lightly running his hand down Annabelle's golden mane in his reverent yet possessive way. "I shall be honored to have you at my side, ma petite, and you will have evening gowns to choose from for the occasion...or at least you will by then when they are all finished." He smiled gently. "Shall I inform Monsieur Stanford to expect the both of us?"

Annabelle's heart fluttered and she smiled softly as she nodded slowly. "If you wish it, Erik."

Erik's smile grew. "Very well."

* * *

_...Four hours later..._

After supper, both Erik and Annabelle had retreated back into the music room to finish decorating the tree...talking and laughing amongst themselves as they carefully weaved thick, red, velvet ribbon through the branches and hung the delicate glass ornaments. They had of course paused every now and again for hot chocolate breaks, but other than that, they worked very diligently, and upon finishing, they stood back to admire their work.

"Oh, Erik...it's so beautiful," Annabelle breathed in awe as she took in the sight of the delicate glass ornaments that seemed to glow from the light of the fire.

Erik nodded in approval as he too took in the sight. "Yes, it is very nice at that," he said with a smile as he stood beside the lovely blond. Turning, he strode over to the piano and sat down on the bench. "Christmas carols, ma petite?" he suggested.

Annabelle averted her eyes. "I'm afraid that I can't sing," she said softly.

"I am sure you are just being modest," Erik said with a small chuckle.

Annabelle shook her head. "No, I'm not. I really can't."

"Oh," Erik said softly, not quite knowing what to say on the matter.

"Are you a musician?" Annabelle asked. "Is that one of your other professions?"

"Yes," Erik said with a nod. "I am a composer."

Annabelle smiled sweetly. "Would you please play me something of yours?"

Erik blinked and raised an eyebrow. "You wish to hear something of mine?" he asked, as though unsure of what the girl had just requested.

Annabelle nodded. "Yes, very much so."

Erik smiled and his heart fluttered. "Very well, ma petite Belle. Why don't you come and sit here beside me?" he asked as he patted the spot next to him on the bench.

Still smiling, Annabelle crossed over to the piano and sat down beside her benefactor, folding her hands neatly in her lap. "What are you going to play?"

Erik pulled out the sonata that had been inspired by Annabelle's laughter. "I just started writing this one," he said with a small smile as he began playing. "It isn't finished yet though..."

Annabelle closed her eyes and allowed the music to sweep her away--her heart fluttering in a strange sort of recognition as the music wrapped itself around her. She slowly opened her eyes when Erik finished playing and smiled sweetly as she turned just enough so she could press a kiss to Erik's mask that was once again facing her as it had been in the garden. "That was beautiful, Erik. You're amazing...and so very gifted," she said as she allowed her head to fall lightly onto her benefactor's shoulder. "Whatever pain you've endured in your life...always believe that," she said softly.

Erik closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. Annabelle's words...and her kiss to his mask...they made him want to weep! To him, her kiss to his mask meant that she accepted him, and her words...they had been the kindest words Erik had ever heard in his entire life.

And they had been spoken to him by a truly beautiful woman!

Erik could not stop himself from either resting his head against Annabelle's or from tentatively sliding an arm around her small waist. "Thank you, ma petite ange," he said softly. "Your words mean more to me than you will ever know."

* * *

**A/N:** Just in time for the holdays ;3 Enjoy, and I wish all of my readers a very happy holiday season!


	9. Chapter 9

Please review! I love hearing from my readers! I live for reviews, and I do in fact allow anonymous reviews, so don't be shy! If you have reviewed, I heartily thank you! Please note that all flamers will be strung up with the Punjab lasso!

Also, please allow me to apologize for any grammatical errors when using French phrases.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'Phantom of the Opera' (any of the renditions) or any of the cannon characters...unfortunately...(God, I wish I owned Erik!) I'm not making any money from this, I'm just writing this for fun. I do however own Annabelle and any other OCs you may find in the story.

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

_...New Years Eve day; music room..._

"Erik, when is your birthday?" Annabelle asked as she looked up from her book.

At the piano, Erik blinked and looked up from the music he was writing. "Why do you ask?" he asked as he gazed across the room to where Annabelle was curled up on the divan with Tatiana in her lap.

Annabelle smiled. "So I can know when to wish you a happy birthday, silly," she said with a soft giggle.

Erik chuckled softly. "Ask a simple question, get a simple answer," he mused softly as his heart fluttered. Belle wanted to wish him a happy birthday? Erik never celebrated his birthday, and the idea that anyone would willingly choose to acknowledge the day was so very strange and alien to Erik. Yet it filled his heart with a delightful warmth. "Very well, my sweet Belle. If you must know, I was born on All Hallow's Eve."

Annabelle's eyes widened just a little. "You're the first person I've ever known to be born on that day," she said with a small smile. "Erik, how old are you?"

"Does it matter?" Erik asked simply.

Annabelle gave a small shake of her head. "Not really," she said as she stroked Tatiana's fur. "But I was just curious."

"I am older than you are, Belle...let us leave it at that for now."

"Oh," Annabelle said thoughtfully. "All right, then."

"Have you decided on what you are going to wear tonight?" Erik asked, as he changed the subject.

"No, I haven't," Annabelle answered simply with a small shake of her head.

"Might I suggest your purple gown?" Erik requested with a knowing smile. "You look absolutely breathtaking in that dress."

Annabelle smiled and blushed softly. "All right, then. The purple dress it is," she said before going back to her book.

"What is it you are reading, my pet?" Erik asked softly.

"Jane Eyre'," Annabelle said with a smile. "It's my favorite. No matter how many times I read it, I never get tired of it."

"It looks so old and worn...I could get you a better copy if you wish it, Belle."

Annabelle held the book closer to her. "Please don't," she said softly. "It was my mother's. Every time I read it...I feel that much closer to her."

Erik gave a small nod of understanding. "Forgive me, cherie. I did not know."

The small blond smiled softly. "There's nothing to forgive."

A small, knowing smile tugged at the corners of Erik's mouth and he put down his pen as he beckoned for Annabelle to approach him. "Come here to me, Belle."

Marking her place in the book with a scrap of ribbon, Annabelle closed the book and carefully placed it down on the table next to divan before gently gathering Tatiana into her arms and standing. The small heels of her shoes made softly tapped along the polished floor as she made her way to the piano.

Still smiling, Erik motioned towards the red, rectangular box sitting on top of the piano. "Why don't you open that box, my pet?"

Annabelle gently put a protesting Tatiana down on the floor and took the box in both hands before sitting down beside Erik on the piano bench. "What's in it?" she asked excitedly as she looked up into Erik's face.

Erik chuckled and slowly stroked Annabelle's hair. "Why don't you open it and find out, ma petite?"

Placing the box on her lap, Annabelle slowly lifted the lid and her entire face lit up and she squealed with girlish delight when she saw the box's contents. "Chocolates! Oh, Erik, thank you!" Keeping the box in one hand, she slid an arm around Erik's neck and kissed his cheek before she could stop herself. She was sitting on his unmasked side, so her soft lips made contact with her benefactor's skin. "Thank you so much," she said softly.

Erik's entire body tensed when he felt those soft lips against his skin. This was the second time Annabelle had kissed him, and even though it had been chaste like the first, it made Erik's blood boil and added fuel to the fire of the ever-growing desire he felt for the girl.

Annabelle lightly rested her free hand on the hand Erik still had resting on the piano keys, and she allowed her head to fall on the masked man's shoulder. "You really have been so very kind to me, Erik…and so very sweet." She could not stop herself from deeply breathing in the scent of Erik's aftershave. Annabelle had always loved the smell of sandalwood, but for some reason on Erik, it smelled all the much more enticing.

Erik slowly, tentatively turned his hand so he could lace his fingers through Annabelle's, and the smallest of smiles played on his lips. "I am just delighted to see you smile, ma cherie. Your smile brings light to an entire room, Belle, and it brings me great joy to see it."

A soft blush colored Annabelle's cheeks. "You don't need to give me gifts to see me smile, Erik," she said softly. "I'll always have a smile for you."

Erik's heart fluttered. "Really, Belle?" he asked softly. "Will you always have a smile for me?" he asked as he gently tilted Annabelle's face up to his with his free hand.

Annabelle smiled sweetly. "Yes, Erik…I promise."

Erik's thumb caressed Annabelle's bottom lip with a feather light caress. "That is the second promise you have made to me, ma petite," he said softly.

Annabelle had to resist the sudden urge she had to kiss Erik's thumb. "And I always keep my promises, Erik," she said softly as she gazed into her benefactor's eyes which had once again become that warm, honey color that caused that familiar ache in her abdomen.

Erik smiled. "You truly are an angel, my sweet Belle." He could not stop himself from brushing the lightest of kisses to Annabelle's forehead. "I am a fortunate man indeed to have you in my life."

* * *

_...Annabelle's room; hours later..._

"Thank you for helping me with my dress, Mrs. Pierce," Annabelle said softly as the housekeeper finished lacing up the back of her evening dress. "I wouldn't have been able to do it on my own."

"Think nothing of it."

"You didn't have to it though…Sadie, the new maid could have done it. I didn't mean to bother you with this."

A small, rare smile graced the housekeeper's lips. "It's no trouble, Miss Warren."

Annabelle blinked. "Miss Warren? You've never called me that before."

"That's because before, you were a maid under my charge," Mrs. Pierce said simply. "Things have changed now," she said as she made certain that Annabelle's skirt hung correctly.

"Not really," Annabelle said softly as she gazed at her reflection in the full-length mirror. "I'm still me." Her reflection looked to the housekeeper's. "Aren't I?"

"Of course you are, Miss Warren…you are still the same, but your position is not."

Annabelle looked down at her gloved hands. "I'm not even sure what that position is."

Mrs. Pierce sighed softly. "Neither am I, Miss Belle…but what I do know is that in the years I have worked for Monsieur Dessler, I have never seen him the way he is now."

Annabelle blinked and raised her gaze once more to the housekeeper's reflection. "And how is that?" she asked softly.

"At peace," Mrs. Pierce said softly. "And dare I say, happy…it's all because of you, Belle." She placed her hands on Annabelle's shoulders.

"But…I haven't done anything."

A ghost of a smile played over the housekeeper's mouth. "You've done something, my girl. Exactly what…I don't know, but you have done something."

The sound of a throat clearing drew the attention of both women, and they turned to find Erik standing in the doorway. The housekeeper instantly stepped away from Annabelle, and gave Erik a small bow of her head before leaving the room.

At first, all Erik could do was stare as he took in the sight of Annabelle. The rich purple silks and satins of her off the shoulder gown made her eyes look like two amethysts glittering in her delicate face which was lovingly framed by the soft ringlets of her hair. The tight bodice hugged the soft curves of Annabelle's young, feminine body, and Erik suddenly did not want to take her to the party at all.

He wanted to keep Annabelle locked up forever, so that no one but himself could see her.

"Erik?"

Erik blinked and came back to the present. "Yes?"

"Do you approve?" Annabelle asked softly as she slowly turned so Erik could see how the dress looked on her.

Once again, all Erik could do was stare, and he was struck speechless.

Annabelle's face fell. "You don't like it," she said softly.

Erik smiled and stepped into the room before slowly closing the distance between the two of them. "Quite the contrary, my dear. I was simply struck speechless by your beauty."

Annabelle's heart raced as Erik came to stand mere inches away from her and slowly tilt her face up to his. "Really?" she asked softly.

Still smiling, Erik nodded slowly. "Very much so." He swept his eyes over the lovely young woman standing before him. "But…there is something missing," he said with a knowing smile.

Annabelle blinked in confusion. "Oh?"

A mischievous twinkle entered Erik's eyes and he stepped away from Annabelle and gently turned her so she was facing the mirror once more. "Close your eyes, ma petite," he said as he stood behind her.

Annabelle gazed at Erik's reflection standing behind her for a moment before doing as she was told and closed her eyes.

His smile growing, Erik reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a length of black, velvet cord before fastening it around Annabelle's neck. "Open your eyes, my pet," he murmured softly into her ear.

Annabelle opened her eyes, and they only widened when she caught sight of the large, oval-shaped amethyst in a gold setting hanging from the cord. It was her birthstone, and it was the largest she had ever seen. "Oh, Erik…"

"Do you like it, Belle?"

"Oh, Erik," Annabelle breathed softly. "It's so beautiful…"

"I hoped you would like it." Erik lightly grazed his fingers over Annabelle's arms. "They had larger stones, but…you are so petite, I felt that anything bigger than this would look ridiculous on you."

"Oh, no Erik…it's perfect. It really is so very beautiful, but…" Annabelle reached up behind her neck to unclasp the necklace. "I can't accept it, it's too much."

Erik's hands stopped Annabelle's and gently moved them back down to their original position. "It is a gift, Belle," he said softly but firmly as he tentatively laced his fingers through hers. Annabelle was not yet wearing her gloves, so it was her soft skin Erik was touching. "A gift from me to you."

Annabelle gazed at their reflections in the mirror and could not stop her fingers from tightening around Erik's. "But Erik…why? What have I done to deserve it?"

"Does a man need a reason to bestow a beautiful gift upon a beautiful woman?" Erik asked softly.

Annabelle blinked uncertainly, clearly at a loss with the situation. "I don't know," she answered softly.

Erik slowly raised one of Annabelle's hands to his lips and brushed the lightest of kisses to her knuckles. "Belle…you are a beautiful woman with a beautiful soul, and I can think of no one else more deserving of such a gift."

"Do you really think so?"

"Oh, yes."

"Do you really think I'm beautiful?" Annabelle asked softly, shyly.

Erik released Annabelle's hands and slowly turned her so she was facing him...his hands gently gripping her arms. "In all my life, I have never seen such perfection," he said softly as his gaze locked with Annabelle's and he tentatively began leaning in...

Annabelle felt the ache deep in her abdomen return and her heart beat like the wings of a hummingbird. Small shivers coursed through her as Erik's thumbs slowly caressed the part of her arms which they touched. "Erik…" her voice was barely above a whisper as she shyly leaned up to meet Erik half way for what would be her first kiss...

Erik's heart raced as he saw Annabelle's eyes darken to indigo before slowly fluttering closed. Annabelle's lips…her perfect lips were so close, and his own lips ached with the need to claim them. "My dear, sweet Belle…" Erik murmured softly as his lips just barely brushed against hers with a feather light touch.

Suddenly, Erik's mind was filled with the memory of Christine and Raul sailing away on his gondola as his world and home crumbled around him, and he hurriedly pulled away from Annabelle--his hands releasing her arms as he put distance between the two of them.

Annabelle's eyes opened and blinked in confusion, and she felt empty and bereft at Erik's sudden distance. What had just happened? Had she angered him in some way? The thought of angering the man who had shown her nothing but kindness and generosity made Annabelle's heart leap into her throat. "Erik?" Her voice was soft and almost childlike. "Did I do something wrong?"

Though mentally he screamed and berated himself for allowing his memories to get the better of him, Erik's heart immediately ached upon hearing Annabelle's question; and the ache only worsened when he saw the way the lovely girl was looking at him…sincere and completely without guile. Annabelle looked so lost and forlorn, all Erik wanted to do was wrap her in his arms and kiss away all her uncertainties…and it took all his self control to keep from doing just that. "No, ma petite," he said softly. "You did nothing wrong."

"But then--" Annabelle began.

"Come," Erik said as he handed Annabelle her gloves and cut off her question. "We must go now or we shall be late. I shall meet you downstairs," he said as he turned on his heel and strode from the room.

At first, all Annabelle could so was stare at Erik as he all but retreated from her bedroom. If she had done nothing wrong, then why had he stopped? Why had he not kissed her? As Annabelle slid her hands into her black, elbow-length gloves, her mind slowly went over the events from mere minutes ago.

Erik had wanted to kiss her. Annabelle could feel it…

But more importantly, Annabelle had wanted him to kiss her. Despite having only met Erik face to face only eight days ago, the petite blond could not deny the passions and desires that Erik aroused within her inexperienced body…passions and desires that she never thought she would ever feel in her lifetime.

Despite the mask, Annabelle found Erik to be the most devastatingly handsome man she had ever seen…with lips that she longed to feel against her skin, and eyes that caused her very womb to quiver. But in spite of all that, Erik treated her with respect and even reverence, and it warmed Annabelle's heart to think about it. Should Erik ever ask her to be his, Annabelle knew she would be a very fortunate woman indeed.

As Annabelle picked up the evening cloak draped over the foot of her bed and fastened it around her shoulders, she wondered if perhaps Erik did not find her attractive. Was that why he had stopped himself from kissing her? The thought made Annabelle's heart sink, and she could not stop the single tear from rolling down her cheek as she hurried from her room.

* * *

_...Mansion of Leland Stanford..._

"Ah, Dessler! There you are." A large, portly man with a white beard and mustache approached Erik and held out a hand. "So glad you could make it."

"Monsieur Stanford," Erik said with a small bow of his head as he took his host's proffered hand and shook it. "Good evening. And to you, Madame Stanford, good evening," he said as he bowed and lightly kissed the elder woman's hand.

"Good evening, Monsieur Dessler," Mrs. Stanford said with a polite smile.

Annabelle shyly stood behind Erik, feeling very out of place amongst all the wealthy socialites.

Mrs. Stanford peered around Erik and offered Annabelle a smile. "And you must be the Belle that we've all been hearing about."

Annabelle smiled shyly. "That I am, Mrs. Stanford," she said softly with a small curtsy.

"Well, come out from behind there, my dear so we can get a better look at you," Mrs. Stanford said. "Don't be shy."

Erik held out a hand for Annabelle to take. "Ma petite?"

Annabelle accepted Erik's hand and allowed him to pull her out into view. She shyly averted her eyes as she curtsied politely to the two hosts. "Good evening," she said softly. "It's very nice to meet you both."

"Well, aren't you a sweet little thing?" Mr. Stanford asked with a smile as he took Annabelle's hand from Erik and pressed a polite kiss to her knuckles.

"Thank you, sir," Annabelle said with a shy smile.

"Come, Belle," Mrs. Stanford said as she gently took a hold of Annabelle's arm. "I'll introduce you to the ladies, and we can give the men some time to talk."

"As you wish, Mrs. Stanford."

Mrs. Stanford smiled and gave a small wave of her hand. "Oh, you can call me Jane."

Annabelle smiled shyly. "All right."

"I must tell you how much I admire that necklace you're wearing," Mrs. Stanford said as she led Annabelle away.

"Oh, thank you, M...I mean, Jane," Annabelle replied with a nervous giggle.

"She certainly is a lovely creature, Dessler," Mr. Stanford said as he watched the two ladies depart.

"Yes, monsieur," Erik replied with a small nod as he watched Annabelle's every move. "So very lovely..."

* * *

_...Two hours later; twenty minutes before midnight..._

"So what say you, Dessler?" Mr. Stanford asked.

Erik, who had been busy watching Annabelle from across the room, blinked as his client's voice ripped him from his thoughts. "Hmm? Forgive me, monsieur, what was it you were saying?"

"I was asking your opinion on the new project I am considering pursuing. The opera house, remember?"

"Ah, yes," Erik replied with a small nod.

"If I were to invest in the idea, I would like you to be the lead architect and designer on the project. What is your opinion on the matter?"

While Erik outwardly remained calm, inwardly he was dancing with excitement at the prospect of having opera in his life once more. "Well," he began. "It would bring more culture to the city."

Mr. Stanford beamed. "That's exactly what I thought."

"And it could also be used as a concert hall for visiting symphonies...ands of course ballet companies as well..."

"Practical and cultural, I like it!" Mr. Stanford rubbed his hands together.

"But there will be much more involved in the project than simply constructing the building," Erik continued.

"Oh? Such as?"

Erik took a sip of wine from the goblet he held in his hand. "Well, there is the matter of developing an opera company. You will have to audition dancers for the ballet, singers for the chorus...an orchestra must also be hired along with a conductor, and extra special attention must be paid to the auditioning of the company's prima donna...the leading female singer, and the company's primo uomo...the leading male singer."

Mr. Stanford blinked, and for the first time in a long time felt daunted by the prospect of a new project. "But...I don't know anything about that sort of thing. Business, law, politics and finance are my avenues of knowledge...not music."

Erik's lips slowly curved with a smile filled with charm and influence. "Forgive me, monsieur, but if I may...architecture is not my only profession. I am also a musician. I would be more than happy to be placed in charge of that which you feel is beyond your depth."

"A musician? Really, Dessler?"

Erik gave a small bow of his head. "Yes, monsieur. I am highly skilled in the playing of several instruments, and I am also a composer."

"You truly are a man of many talents, Dessler."

Erik smiled and gave a gracious bow of his head. "How good of you to say so, monsieur."

Mr. Stanford was silent for several moments as he regarded Erik. "Well...you have yet to steer me wrong, Dessler. If I do indeed decide to go ahead with this project, I will be more than happy to leave all things related to music entirely in your control."

Erik felt as though he were flying. "Thank you, monsieur. You are too kind."

Mr. Stanford smiled. "Perhaps...but I believe practicality has more to do with it. You have been placed in my path for a reason, Dessler...and you appear to have a great many talents which suit my needs. I would be foolish indeed if I did not take advantage of those gifts, now wouldn't I?"

Erik simply smiled and took another sip of wine before giving a small bow of his head when Leland, Mr. Stanford's young son approached the two of them.

"Ah, Leland, my boy," Mr. Stanford said as he pulled his son into an affectionate, one-armed hug. Normally, he would have had his son in bed hours ago, but seeing as it was the countdown to the new year, he did not see the harm in letting the boy stay up. "You remember Monsieur Dessler, don't you?"

Leland gave a small nod of his head before turning his gaze back to the party. "Who's that girl?" he asked as he pointed.

"That is Miss Belle Warren...Monsieur Dessler's ward," Mr. Stanford answered as he placed a hand over his son's finger and gently pushed it down. "And how many times must your mother and I tell you that it's not polite to point?"

"She's pretty," Leland said as though his father had not spoken a word.

Erik smiled. "Yes she is," he agreed.

"When I'm old enough, I'm going to ask her to marry me."

While Mr. Stanford threw back his head and laughed, Erik simply regarded the small boy with a small smile. "I am afraid by the time that happens, Mademoiselle Belle will already have a husband."

"So I'll ask her to wait for me," Leland said simply.

Erik simply chuckled softly and patted the boy on the head. The child was no threat to him.

"In any case, my boy," Mr. Stanford said. "Dessler here may be right...especially if her current popularity is any indication of the future."

Erik turned his gaze back to Annabelle at Stanford's words and his heart thundered in his chest when he caught sight of all the eligible, young men swarming around the lovely blond like bees to honey. "Excuse me," he said softly as he stepped away from Stanford and his son. "But I believe I must rescue her before she is spirited away."

Stanford simply laughed, not at all seeing the borderline panic in the masked man's eyes.

* * *

Annabelle nervously cast her eyes around at the handsome, young men who were currently gathering around her. "Yes?" she asked shyly as she hid a little behind her fan.

"Would you do me the honor of dancing with me?" one of the young men asked.

"No, no. She must dance with me."

"No, me."

"Will you please dance with me, Miss Warren?"

Annabelle blushed furiously, and raised her fan a little higher in order to hide it as she seemed to shrink back. "Well, I…"

"Excuse me, gentlemen, but I believe Mademoiselle Warren promised this dance to me."

At the sound of Erik's voice, Annabelle lowered her fan and the blissful light in her eyes matched her smile--the smile that she reserved only for him. She placed her hand in Erik's when he offered it to her, and allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor. "Thank you," she whispered to him.

Erik smiled down at Annabelle as he turned to face her. "It was my pleasure, ma petite."

As Erik and Annabelle began to waltz, they gazed deeply into each other's eyes, and everything else around them disappeared...

All that mattered to Annabelle was that Erik was holding her and gazing down at her with eyes the color of warm honey. The elegant hand he had pressed between her shoulder blades caused shivers of delight to course though her, and the soft smile playing upon Erik's sinful lips caused Annabelle's abdomen to ache with longing. She felt as though she were dancing on air.

All that mattered to Erik was that Annabelle was in his arms and giving him the smile that she reserved only for him. She was so beautiful, and when she looked at him, even now, there was no ridicule or revulsion...only acceptance and affection. She was a creature of genuine compassion and sweetness, and she cared for him. Erik could see it in Annabelle's lovely eyes, and his heart raced with this knowledge. Soon, he would have the one thing he wanted most.

Love.

Come midnight, a new year would begin, as would a new chapter in Erik's life. In the living novel that was his life, Erik had already started new chapters regarding his social status and living situation. No longer a shunned outcast as he was in Paris, he was now a respected man who was appreciated for his genius and talents. He had fame and a constant flow of income. He had property and wealth. But now Erik wanted something more...

He wanted someone to share it all with.

After swearing that he would never love again, Erik was ready to open and give his heart to another; and as he gazed down at the petite woman dancing in his arms...a woman with an angel's face and a selfless heart, Erik knew that he had at last found a worthy keeper for his wounded and yearning heart.

Belle...beauty and light personified...

And Erik's salvation.

* * *

**A/N: **I should've said this in an earlier chapter, but I'm going to say it now. Please excuse any historical inaccuracies (such as Stanford's idea for an opera house, and any other small things like that), but I had to do a small amount of tweaking in order to make things fit and flow better with my story. So if you're a history buff, please don't hate me...just sit back and enjoy my fic for what it is...a story ;3


	10. Chapter 10

Please review! I love hearing from my readers! I live for reviews, and I do in fact allow anonymous reviews, so don't be shy! If you have reviewed, I heartily thank you! Please note that all flamers will be strung up with the Punjab lasso!

Also, please allow me to apologize for any grammatical errors when using French phrases.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'Phantom of the Opera' (any of the renditions) or any of the cannon characters...unfortunately...(God, I wish I owned Erik!) I'm not making any money from this, I'm just writing this for fun. I do however own Annabelle and any other OCs you may find in the story.

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

* * *

_...Music room; two days later..._

Erik looked up from his work when Annabelle came into the room and closed the door. "And just where did you disappear to after supper?" he asked, noticing that the small blond took great care to not show her back to him.

"Oh, nowhere in particular," Annabelle answered airily with a soft giggle as she made certain to keep her hands behind her back.

"And what sort of an answer is that?"

"Close your eyes, Erik," Annabelle said with a smile as she kept her hands behind her back.

Erik raised an eyebrow. "Why?" There was a teasing lilt to his voice and a playful twinkle in his eyes as a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He had been in very good spirits since the start of the new year, and it came across in a newly found playfulness and affection when dealing with the lovely blond.

"Because I have a surprise for you." While Annabelle made an attempt at seriousness, her eyes twinkled with mirth and a soft giggle escaped her lips.

"Might I inquire as to the occasion?"

"Just because," Annabelle answered with a smile.

"A surprise for me, eh?" Erik mused as he skillfully twirled his pen. Though outwardly he remained calm, inwardly he was excited. A surprise? For him? For no apparent reason?

"Yes," Annabelle said with a nod as her smile grew.

"Behind your back, no less?"

"Exactly."

Erik's smile grew into a grin. "You do realize, ma petite, that if I so chose, I could simply wrap my arms around you and take the surprise myself, don't you?"

Annabelle's eyes widened and she gasped softly. "Oh, but Erik...that wouldn't be any fun," she said with a small pout.

Erik once again raised an eyebrow. "On the contrary, Belle...I would find wrapping my arms around you to be very enjoyable indeed." His heart fluttered in delight when he saw the soft blush cross Annabelle's cheeks.

"That's not what I meant when I said it wouldn't be fun," Annabelle said softly, unable to ignore the warmth of Erik's eyes and how it physically affected her.

"Then you have no objection," Erik said as he slowly stood, his grin still in place as he kept his gaze locked on Annabelle's.

"Yes, I do!" Annabelle said hurriedly as she took a step back. "I mean, no I don't. I mean...that is to say..." her soft blush deepened to a dark crimson.

Erik chuckled, his grin growing impish. "Well, which is it, my pet?" he asked as he took a step closer to the petite blond. "Do you object, or don't you?"

Annabelle lightly nibbled her lower lip. "I object," she said softly. "But only because I wouldn't be able to see the expression on your face when you opened your eyes and saw the surprise."

Erik's grin softened into a smile. "Does it mean that much to you, Belle?" he asked softly.

"Yes," Annabelle said softly with a nod.

Erik nodded. "Very well, ma petite," he said as he closed his eyes. "My eyes are now closed."

Annabelle smiled and carefully took Erik's surprise out from behind her back and held it out in front of her. "All right, Erik...open your eyes."

Erik opened his eyes and his heart melted when he saw the vase filled with variegated tulips. "Oh, Belle...thank you," he said softly as he carefully took the vase from the lovely blond...his fingertips lightly brushing hers.

"Do you really like them?" Annabelle asked softly...hopefully. "I picked them from the gardens, I hope you don't mind. I know they're not much...especially considering all that you've done for me..."

"I love them," Erik said with a smile as he turned and placed the vase on the piano. "Although, I am not sure the message the flowers convey would really apply to me."

"Oh, Erik how can you say that?" Annabelle asked as she lightly rested a hand on her benefactor's arm. "Your eyes are beautiful...the most beautiful I have ever seen."

Beautiful?

Erik closed his eyes and his breath caught in his throat. That was the first time in his entire life that anyone had used the word 'beautiful' to describe any part of him. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced, and he felt his heart would burst. As it was, he could not stop the single tear from rolling down his cheek.

"Erik?" Annabelle gently squeezed Erik's arm. "Are you all right?"

Erik placed his free hand over the small delicate one on his arm. "Yes, I am quite all right," he said with a small smile. "Do you really think so, Belle?" he asked softly as he turned his face so he could gaze into the lovely girl's angelic face. "Do you really find my eyes as beautiful as you say?"

"Yes," Annabelle answered with a small nod as she tentatively laced her fingers through Erik's. "I love your eyes."

Erik turned so he was properly facing the lovely girl. "Do you, my sweet Belle?" he asked softly as he tentatively moved his arms around Annabelle's slim waist.

Annabelle's heart beat wildly. "Yes," she answered softly as she slowly slid her hands up Erik's arms until they came to rest on his shoulders. "I could gaze into them for hours," she said with a soft blush.

Keeping one arm around Annabelle's waist, Erik gently tilted her lovely face up to his as he slowly drew her near. "And I could drown very happily in yours," he said in a voice barely above a whisper as he slowly lowered his face to hers. There would be no turning back now...

Not this time.

"Erik..." Annabelle whispered.

"My Belle..." Erik managed to whisper before capturing those soft, rose-colored lips in a slow kiss as he pressed Annabelle's petite body to him...marveling at how perfectly she fit against him. When he slowly broke the kiss, he gazed down at the girl in his arms, and his heart fluttered when he saw the small, blissful smile on her lips as she slowly opened her eyes. "I have wanted to do that since the first moment I saw you," Erik murmured softly as he lightly brushed his thumb over Annabelle's bottom lip.

Annabelle could not stop herself from lightly kissing Erik's thumb. "What took you so long?" she whispered as she gently cupped the unmasked half of Erik's face in one hand.

The moment Erik felt those soft, sweet lips brush over his thumb, he felt his trousers tighten, and he leaned into Annabelle's hand the way a cat would lean into a caress. "Fear," he said softly before pressing a kiss to the center of Annabelle's palm.

"Fear?" Annabelle's skin burned where Erik kissed it.

"Yes...but I refuse to let my life be ruled by fear anymore," Erik said as he gently tangled a hand into Annabelle's hair. "Not when I have been given a second chance," he whispered before capturing those delightful lips once more.

When a knock came to the door, Erik ignored it. Nothing else mattered now except for the lovely woman pressed so trustingly against him as she freely offered up her lips. However, the knock was not to be ignored.

"Monsieur Dessler?" Mrs. Pierce's voice penetrated through the door and cut through the warmth of the affection and desire growing between Erik and Annabelle.

Erik growled in annoyance and his eyes flashed as he broke the kiss and turned to the door. "What is it?" he snapped, still pressing Annabelle close to him.

"Mr. Stanford is here, monsieur." Erik had not given the housekeeper permission to enter, so she had remained on her side of the door.

A sigh of frustration escaped Erik's lips and he was about to tell the housekeeper to send the man away, but the feel of a hand gently squeezing his arm made him pause.

"Erik, it's all right," Annabelle said softly with a small, reassuring smile. "Go on, it could be important."

"Nothing is more important than this," Erik answered as he motioned between the two of them.

Annabelle's heart fluttered at Erik's words and she felt her cheeks warm. "Go on, Erik. See what he wants," she said as she stood on tip toe and pressed a light kiss to Erik's lips. "I'll be here when you get back, I promise."

Erik smiled before capturing those lovely lips once more in a kiss. "Very well," he said as he reluctantly stepped away. "Show Monsieur Standford to my office, Mrs. Pierce. I shall be there directly."

* * *

_...Office..._

"Ah, Dessler. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

"Think nothing of it, monsieur. What can I do for you?" Though Erik remained polite and courteous, inwardly he was on edge--desperate to get back to his lovely angel.

"Ah, yes...well, do you remember that idea I was telling you about the other night? The one about the opera house?"

"Yes," Erik said with a nod.

"Well, I have decided to go ahead with the idea," Mr. Stanford said with a pleased smile. "And I want to commission you with the task of building it."

Erik smiled and his heart raced. "Thank you, monsieur," he said with a small bow of his head. "I shall start work on the plans immediately."

"Oh, and Dessler...I was thinking of making good on your offer to handle all the affairs relating to music and the like. As I've said, I have no idea about such things, whereas you do. What I am trying to say is that, I would very much like for you to be my partner in this venture. I shall handle all the finances and business affairs, and you shall handle everything else."

Erik blinked, unsure of what he had just heard. "Monsieur, am I to understand that you wish me to run the opera house once it is completed?"

"Yes," Mr. Stanford said with a nod. "The choosing of performances, the auditioning...all that sort of thing I leave entirely in your charge."

Erik could not believe what he had just heard. The new year had scarcely begun, yet already things were falling into place in his life as they never have before. His heart raced, and he felt the smile spreading over his face as he was overcome with giddiness and euphoria. It was all so perfect.

"So what say you, Dessler?"

Erik blinked himself out of his reverie to find Mr. Stanford holding out a hand. His smile still firmly in place, Erik accepted the man's hand and gripped it firmly as he shook it. "I say that I accept, monsieur."

* * *

_...Music room..._

As she sat upon the piano bench, Annabelle's lips still burned from Erik's kisses, and she could still feel his hands as they had pressed her close to his strong body. Her heart raced in excitement at the memory. Though she longed to feel those strong arms around her again, the small blond could not help but wonder where she and Erik went from that moment.

Would Erik make her mistress?

Would he make her his wife?

Annabelle's thoughts were interrupted when the door to the room opened. Turning, she was rewarded with the sight of a beaming Erik holding a bottle of champagne in one hand and two glasses in the other. The sight of Erik's smile prompted one of her own to spread over Annabelle's face. "You seem happy," she observed.

Erik closed the door with his foot. "Is there any reason why I should not be happy, my dear?" he asked as he strode over to the piano and put the bottle and glasses down. "After all..." he said...his smile growing as he took the small blonde's hands in his own and gently pulled her to her feet. "I have the affections of a beautiful woman, and I have just started a partnership with the most influential man in the city."

Annabelle's heart fluttered. "What sort of a partnership?"

Erik's eyes were alight with excitement as he opened the bottle and poured the golden liquid into the two glasses. "I have been commissioned by Monsieur Stanford to build an opera house," he said as he handed Annabelle a glass before taking one for himself. "And upon its completion, I am to be placed in charge of all things music and performance related." He lightly clinked his glass against Annabelle's.

Annabelle smiled happily. "Oh, Erik, how wonderful for you!" She took a small sip from her glass. "I'm so happy for you."

Erik felt his heart melt as he too took a small sip from his glass. "Are you, my darling Belle?" he asked softly.

Annabelle gave Erik the smile that she reserved for him and him alone. "Yes, I truly am."

Smiling, Erik slid an arm around the lovely blond before gently drawing her close and pressing her against him. "This year is proving to be most fortuitous indeed."

Annabelle simply smiled and took another small sip from her glass, giggling softly when the bubbles tickled her nose.

Erik's smile grew and he chuckled before lightly kissing the tip of Annabelle's nose. "Oh, my sweet Belle...you are simply too adorable for words." As he gazed into those pools of deep blue, Erik was suddenly seized by an impulse, and he placed his glass down on the piano before dipping a finger inside, and it was with painstaking slowness that he slowly traced his wine-coated finger over Annabelle's rose-colored lips before capturing them in a kiss.

Shivers raced through Annabelle's body and she barely managed to put her own glass down on the piano for fear of dropping it. Her heart beat wildly in her with building excitement, and when Annabelle felt Erik's tongue shyly seeking entrance against her lips, she could not stop herself from opening her mouth and granting him access. She moaned softly as her tongue danced slowly with Erik's, and she could not help sliding a hand into his dark hair...anchoring herself to him as he stole her breath away.

Erik growled softly in triumph at Annabelle's response, and he lifted his angel into his arms before carrying her over to the divan--sitting down with her in his lap as he deepened the kiss. He reveled in the sweet taste of the girl in his arms as his tongue made a slow and thorough exploration of her warm, welcoming mouth. Erik could not get enough of that warmth, those lips, or those sweet kisses...

Kisses that were so willingly given.

The sound of Erik's growl sent shivers through Annabelle's body and she answered with a soft, submissive whimper as she clung to him. "Oh, Erik," she whispered softly as he slowly trailed kisses down her neck. Something deep in her abdomen ached with longing as Erik tentatively caressed and cupped her breasts through all her layers of clothing, and there was a sudden warmth pooling between her legs. "Erik..."

How and when they ended up on the floor, Erik was uncertain, but they did. His angel wrapped her arms around him and held him close as he pinned her beneath him and trailed light kisses down her delicate throat--unbuttoning the collar of her dress to expose more of that creamy skin to his hungry mouth.

Annabelle's legs had spread for Erik of their own volition, and her hips cradled his pelvis as she ran her fingers through Erik's hair and over the back of his neck. It was all so heady, and she could not stop the soft, whimpered moans from escaping her throat as Erik's lips, tongue and teeth lightly teased the sensitive skin of her neck. "Erik..." As Erik unbuttoned her dress further and brushed his lips over the tops of her breasts, her body began screaming...begging for something that Annabelle did not know...

Those soft whimpers of pleasure were maddening!

And the sound of his name on his angel's voice was music to Erik's ears.

Dear God how Erik wanted her! How he wanted to rip the clothing from that beautiful body and caress every inch of that silken skin. His hard, throbbing length ached to be buried deep inside of her, and Erik could not stop his hips from thrusting earnestly against Belle through the fabric of her clothing as he used one hand to slowly push up her skirt. If it had not been for the gasp from his love's lips, Erik did not think he would have been able to stop.

But he did.

Raising his head to gaze down into his lovely angel's face, he was met with eyes that were filled with desire, uncertainty, fear and lust. Had Erik only seen lust and desire, he would have continued. But the uncertainty and fear were what restrained him from ripping away all the clothing that separated the two of them and claiming Belle as his own. It was the fear and uncertainty that allowed Erik's rational mind to gain control over his primal need.

Erik did not want his angel afraid of him...

It was the last thing he wanted!

"I am so very sorry," Erik said softly once he was able to formulate words. His voice was husky with the desire he still felt, and it was slowly that he moved off of the suddenly nervous girl--as though afraid to frighten her with sudden movements. "Please forgive me."

"I should be the one apologizing, Erik," Annabelle said softly. "I thought I was ready..." She blushed furiously and averted her eyes. "I want you to be the one I give my innocence to, and I thought I was ready to...but I was wrong." Her blush deepened, and tears of humiliation rolled down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry for--"

Erik silenced her with a chaste but tender kiss...his heart melting at his angel's confession. His sweet and beautiful angel...she truly was his. Her heart belonged to him. It was a magnificent gift, and it made Erik want to weep. "I hold no blame against you, my love," he said as he tenderly kissed away the tears. It was the first time he had ever used that endearment, and he was amazed at how easily the endearment rolled off his tongue...and how natural it sounded in his ears.

"Are you sure?" Annabelle asked nervously.

"Yes, Belle," Erik said with a small nod. "We will wait until you are ready," he murmured softly as he gazed into his love's eyes and gently smoothed her hair. "I do not wish you to have any regrets," he said softly as he gently cupped his beloved's face in his hands. "When we come together...when we become one, I want you to feel nothing but pleasure and joy." He lightly kissed Annabelle's forehead. "And besides," he said as he offered Belle a small smile. "I have waited my entire life for someone like you...I can wait a little longer until you are ready to give yourself to me at last."

Annabelle's eyes widened in shock. "You're a virgin too?"

Erik nodded slowly.

"Why?"

Erik sighed. "You will find that not all women are as forgiving or accepting as you are, ma petite ange," he said as he lightly caressed his mask.

Annabelle slid her arms around Erik's neck and kissed both his masked and unmasked cheeks before tenderly kissing his lips. "The mask truly doesn't bother me, Erik," she said softly. "And though I promised you that I would never remove it, I hope that one day you might remove it yourself and show me what you're hiding behind it."

"And ruin what is growing between us? No, Belle. Absolutely not." There was a firmness to Erik's voice as his arms wrapped around the lovely blond and held her tightly to him. "I refuse to lose you."

"But you have me," Annabelle said as she gently cradled Erik's face in her hands. "I'm right here with you."

"Yes, exactly...but you would cease to be with me if you were to see my face in its entirety." Erik lightly rested his forehead against his love's. "This face...if you can even call it that, is an infection that poisons all that it touches. It spurred nothing but fear and loathing from my mother. Not even my own mother could gaze upon me...'the Devil's child' as I would later be called."

"The Devil's child?"

"Yes, Belle...that was the name 'gifted' upon me by the traveling gypsies who found me after I ran away from home." His body began trembling. "'Come...come and see the Devil's child'," he spat bitterly. "That is what they would say to all who visited their fair. For you see...half my face looks as though it were touched by Hell itself...as though Satan himself reach into my mother's womb while I was still growing inside of her, and branded me as his own." He gazed into Annabelle's eyes as he gently caressed her cheek. "Such a sight is not fitting for an angel such as you."

"Erik..."

"I would give you my heart. I would give you my body. I would give you all of my worldly possessions. I would bare my very soul to you, but I will never bare what I hide beneath my mask. For if I did...you would surely fear and loathe me as all others have done...and that is something that I simply cannot bear again...not again."

"But Erik, I..."

"Please, Belle," Erik pleaded. "Please don't ask me again."

"Does it really mean that much to you, Erik?" Annabelle asked softly as she gazed into those earnest eyes of gold while her hands still cradled the face she adored. She could read the pain caused by years of abandonment and rejection in those lovely pools of gold. She saw the distrust warring with hope, and more than anything, Annabelle wanted to ease Erik's pain and replace it with love and trust...to heal the deep wounds that his heart and soul had endured.

"More than you can ever imagine."

Annabelle smiled sweetly before pressing light and tender kisses all over Erik's face and mask--trying to show him her acceptance of everything that he was. She could sense that Erik was not a man who trusted easily, and Annabelle wanted so desperately to show him that he could in fact trust her. "Very well, my love," she said softly. "I promise never to ask you again," she vowed before sealing her promise with a tender and lingering kiss to Erik's lips.

"Do you swear on our growing love?" Erik whispered.

Annabelle nodded solemnly. "I swear," she said as she sealed the vow once more with another kiss to her beloved's lips.

Erik felt his heart swell in his chest and he could not stop himself from kissing those sweet lips--taking delight in their growing familiarity. "Belle...my sweet angel..." He kissed her again as he held her close. "You are my light." He kissed her forehead. "You are my salvation." He kissed both her eyelids. "And for as long as I live, I will never let you go."

* * *

**A/N:** A very happy new year to all of you! XD


	11. Chapter 11

Sorry for the delay, but writer's block is a cruel and heartless bitch...and there was also a recent death in my family...

Please review! I love hearing from my readers! I live for reviews, and I do in fact allow anonymous reviews, so don't be shy! If you have reviewed, I heartily thank you! Please note that while I welcome constructive criticism, all flamers will be strung up with the Punjab lasso!

Also, please allow me to apologize for any grammatical errors when using French phrases.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'Phantom of the Opera' (any of the renditions) or any of the cannon characters...unfortunately...(God, I wish I owned Erik!) I'm not making any money from this, I'm just writing this for fun. I do however own Annabelle and any other OCs you may find in the story.

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

* * *

_...A week later..._

"Oh, Erik...did you really build this?" Annabelle asked in awe as she turned her wonder filled eyes to Erik before turning them back to the mansion in front of which they were standing.

Erik smiled, thrilled and flattered to be appreciated. "I did indeed," he said as he fondly patted the small, gloved hand nestled in the crook of his arm. "Well, more to the point, I designed it and oversaw its construction." He was perfectly at ease, and his heart felt as though it could fly.

The past week had been the best of Erik's life! It had been a week of loving smiles and tender caresses. It had been a wonderful week of long embraces and slow, searching kisses in front of a roaring fire. It had been a blissful week in which Erik had reveled and delighted in his beloved's feminine scent and sweet laughter. There had been moments when Erik had felt completely normal. How could he not when such a beautiful woman willingly bestowed affection upon him and happily received affection from him in return?

"It's beautiful," Annabelle said as she turned her face towards Erik's and smiled at him. "You really are so very gifted. I can't even imagine all the thought an planning that goes into something like this. Do you draw?" she asked suddenly. "Other than buildings, I mean," she clarified with a soft giggle.

Erik smiled and chuckled softly as he led the way back to the carriage. "Oui, my dear. When I am not drawing for work, art is a favorite hobby of mine. Are you certain you're warm enough?" he asked as he helped his beloved into the carriage.

The lovely blond smiled sweetly at Erik. "Yes, I'm fine. I'd love to see some of your drawings some day."

Erik smiled. "Then someday I shall show you."

"To the restaurant now, monsieur?" Mr. Smith asked from his place atop the carriage. Not only was he the groundskeeper, but he was also Erik's driver.

"Oui," Erik said as he climbed into the carriage. He and Annabelle were to meet Mr. and Mrs. Stanford for dinner, but Erik had made a few stops along the way to show Annabelle some of his buildings. "Drive on," he said as he closed the door behind him. Once behind the closed doors of the carriage and away from peering eyes, Erik wrapped his arms around his beloved and pulled her onto his lap before claiming her delicious lips in a gentle kiss.

Annabelle smiled and sighed softly into Erik's kiss as her little hands gently caressed Erik's face and mask.

"Perhaps one day very soon," Erik murmured softly against Annabelle's lips after breaking the kiss. "I will paint you, ma petite Belle."

"Me?" Annabelle asked softly in surprise.

"Oui, mon ange," Erik answered before lightly brushing a kiss to Annabelle's lips simply because he could. As always, his heart fluttered when he felt his beloved kiss him back. How he longed to tell her how he loved her.

He would tell her tonight.

Yes...tonight he would tell his Belle just how much he loved her. Erik smiled softly at the thought. But he would not ask her to marry him...not just yet.

Not until he had found a ring that was worthy of her.

"But why?" Annabelle asked softly against Erik's lips.

Erik's smile grew, finding Annabelle's confusion and humility to be utterly charming. "Because you, my sweet Belle, are a great beauty." His hands moved up and tenderly cupped that lovely, delicate face as he gazed into her sapphire pools. "And great beauty like yours must be captured." He smiled when he felt Annabelle's cheeks warm with her blush, and Erik lightly kissed those blushing cheeks. "You are so charming, Belle." He lightly kissed the very tip of his beloved's nose. "And so very, very beautiful..." He captured Annabelle's enticing lips once more, and his hands slowly slid down her petite body, caressing every curve before moving to rest on her hip and back--holding her gently but firmly in place.

Annabelle responded by sliding her arms around Erik's neck, and she did not think twice before opening her mouth to Erik's searching tongue. She shivered in delight and moaned softly as their tongues danced languidly with each other, and she could not stop herself from sliding her hands up into Erik's dark, luxurious hair. Her heart raced in excitement when Erik pressed her closer, and as she melted into his body, Annabelle found herself wishing that they were back home...where they could be undisturbed.

* * *

_...At the restaurant..._

"Ah, Dessler, there you are!" Leland Stanford Smiled and stood as he held out a hand.

"Good evening, monsieur," Erik said as he shook Stanford's hand. "Madame," Erik said with a polite bow of his head to his partner's wife.

"Good evening, Miss Warren," Stanford said as he took Annabelle's hand and pressed a light kiss to her knuckles.

Annabelle smiled shyly. "Good evening, Mister Stanford." She turned her smile to his wife. "Good evening, Jane."

Jane Stanford smiled. "Good evening, Belle. You look very lovely."

"Oh, thank you," Annabelle answered. "And thank you," she said to Erik with a sweet smile as he held her chair out for her.

"My pleasure, ma petite," Erik answered with a smile as he gently pushed Annabelle's chair in before taking his own seat.

"Have you heard about my husband's new pet project, Belle?" Jane asked.

"Yes, I have," Belle answered with a smile. "And I think it's a wonderful idea. Erik is very gifted."

"Thank you, ma petite," Erik said with a smile--his heart swelling with pride.

Mr. Stanford smiled and clapped Erik on the back. "Out of the mouths of babes, eh, Dessler?" he asked with a chuckle.

Erik chuckled softly. "Indeed, monsieur," he said with a smile. After that, he only half listened to Stanford as he prattled on about something or another. He kept his eyes fixed upon his lovely angel as she spoke to his partner's wife. Her loveliness was not simply restricted to her appearance...rather the beauty of her heart and soul radiated from her like a divine light. She truly was his angel, and she was so very precious to Erik. There were no words that could even begin to express how much she meant to him...how the sight of her smile or the sound of her laughter filled him with an almost beatific bliss. Erik would do anything for her. He would do anything and everything in his power to keep his Belle happy. He would do anything and everything to keep his Belle by his side forever.

Oh, how he loved her!

The love Erik had once felt for Christine paled in comparison to the love he felt for his precious angel. With Belle, Erik felt truly at peace for the first time in his tortured life. For the first time in his wretched life...after what felt like an eternity of wandering through a harsh desert...Erik felt as though he were finally home.

Belle was his shelter.

Belle was his sanctuary.

Belle was his angel, and she had shown him the beauty of life...and the beauty of love.

* * *

_...Almost three hours later..._

"Miss Warren," Mr. Stanford said with a light kiss to Annabelle's knuckles. "Always a pleasure."

Annabelle smiled. "It was very nice to see you again, sir. Thank you for inviting me along."

"Think nothing of it," Stanford said with a smile before turning to shake Erik's hand. "When can I expect to see a draft of the plans, Dessler?"

"You shall have a rough plan in your hands by the end of the week, monsieur," Erik said with a smile.

"Excellent!" Stanford said with a broad smile. "Ah, here is our carriage," he said as he saw his carriage approach. "Come, my dear," he said as he took his wife's arm.

Mrs. Stanford smiled. "It was very nice to see you again, Belle. Monsieur, Dessler...always a pleasure."

Erik took Mrs. Stanford's hand and lightly kissed her knuckles. "Goodnight, Madame Stanford."

With that, the pair strolled to their carriage and drove off into the night.

Erik tucked Annabelle's small hand in the crook of his arm while they waited for their carriage to approach in the queue. "Did you enjoy yourself, ma petite ange?" he asked as he rested his free hand over Annabelle's.

Annabelle smiled sweetly up at Erik, and her eyes sparkled with merriment. "Oh, yes very much," she said before smiling shyly in acknowledgement of the hat tips she had gotten from three handsome gentlemen as they passed by.

The hand Erik had been resting lightly upon Annabelle's unconsciously tightened around that small, delicate hand in a possessive gesture, and he gave only the smallest bows of his head in response to the three gentlemen as he narrowed his eyes. His head suddenly buzzed with a jealous paranoia, and he was flooded with the fear that his Belle would leave him. Erik could not have that. He could not bear another woman turning her back on him. He could not bear the rejection of another woman pushing him aside because he was not perfectly handsome. Not again...

Not again!

Erik quickly pushed the two of them through the crowd, and as soon as they approached their carriage, Erik all but lifted Annabelle into his arms and hurriedly leapt into the coach--slamming the door shut behind them. "Drive!" he barked at Mr. Smith.

"Erik, what--" Annabelle's words were cut off when Erik pressed his lips to hers and crushed her to him. This kiss was unlike the kiss from earlier that evening. Whereas that kiss had been gentle and sweet, this kiss was dominating and possessive. Erik's tongue did not shyly beg for entrance, rather it pushed itself forcibly into Annabelle's mouth. There was no slow and gentle exploration, only pillaging as Erik's tongue forced Annabelle's into submission. The petite blond tried to break free, but the more she struggled, the tighter Erik's grip on her became.

Erik growled possessively deep in his throat and pushed the delicate blond down onto the seat of the carriage, pinning her beneath him. Breaking the kiss, his eyes were molten as they bored into Annabelle's.

"Erik," Annabelle pleaded meekly.

"Mine," Erik all but snarled. "Mine!"

Annabelle's heart pounded in her chest. At that moment, Erik looked so very terrifying, and he acted like one possessed. When he roughly crushed his lips to hers once more, all the delicate blond could do was whimper helplessly in fear as buried memories clawed their way to the front of her mind, and she tried to push Erik off of her. "Erik, please..." Annabelle pleaded softly the moment Erik had broken the kiss.

"Mine," Erik growled softly as he nuzzled and nibbled Annabelle's neck. "Mine..." His hands opened Annabelle's cloak and cupped and caressed her breasts through the fabric of her sapphire blue evening gown, and he left a trail of nipping kisses over the tops of her soft breasts as they peeked over the low neckline of her dress. "Mine...all mine..." He used one hand to keep Annabelle's delicate wrist pinned above her head while his free hand slid down to the hem of her dress and began sliding up her leg. "All mine...!"

Tears streamed down Annabelle's face. Why was this happening? Why was Erik doing this to her? "Erik, please stop this!" Summoning up her strength and courage, she slapped Erik across the face and kneed him in the groin just as the carriage came to a halt in front of the manor. The moment Erik fell off of her, Annabelle threw open the carriage door and leapt out, sprinting to the manor, opening the large doors and sprinting up the stairs--not stopping until she was in her room with her door locked behind her.

Once safely within the confines of her room, Annabelle leaned against the door and slowly slid to the floor. Why had Erik done this to her? Where all his kind and loving words a lie? The petite blond shook her head. No. She refused to believe that. She had seen Erik's eyes. She could see the devotion for her...and burning passion. In every touch and caress, she could feel how much Erik cared for her.

So then why?

Why had all this happened? What had happened to make Erik...her sweet, gentle, beloved Erik behave so much like an animal? Annabelle was so confused, and despite her denial of Erik not caring about her, the delicate blond could not stop the feeling of utter betrayal from flooding her. She did not even bother to change out of her clothing before curling into the fetal position on the floor and weeping like a lost child.

* * *

In the carriage, Erik lay stunned on his side. His cheek still stung from Annabelle's slap and his groin throbbed in pain. Yet despite his discomfort, his eyes widened in horror as he replayed all that had led up to his beloved's actions.

Dear God in Heaven, what had he done?!

"Belle!" In one smooth motion, Erik had leapt from the carriage and rushed at a dead sprint into the manor. "Belle!"

"Monsieur, Dessler, what's happened?" Mrs. Pierce asked as she hurried up to her master. "Miss Warren came running in like the very Devil was chasing her."

The housekeeper's words made Erik stop dead in his tracks, and he hung his head. "He was," he said in a voice just barely above a whisper. "If not him, then it was certainly his child..."

Mrs. Pierce drew her eyebrows together in confusion. "Excuse me, monsieur?"

"Nothing," Erik said hurriedly as he drew himself back up and handed the housekeeper his hat, coat and gloves. "Miss Warren was taken a little ill. That is all," he said as he started up the stairs.

"Shall I call for the doctor?"

"There is no need, Madame Pierce," Erik said over his shoulder. "All she needs is a good night's rest," he said as he maintained a calm and even pace up the stairs. Once he was sure he was out of the housekeeper's sight, he broke his calm pace and sprinted the rest of the way--not stopping until he reached the delicate blonde's room. He raised a fist to knock at the door, fully intending to apologize, but stopped when he heard the unmistakable sound of sobbing.

And his heart broke.

He had done this to her...

He had made his precious Belle cry.

He had hurt her.

As his hand fell back down to his side, Erik was flooded with fear, dread and regret. Why had he done what he did? What had possessed him to treat his beloved in such a manner? Belle...his Belle, who had shown him nothing but the deepest affection, trust, kindness and respect...why would Erik risk all that by acting so abominably? Because a couple of handsome, young men had admired her beauty? Why should that have mattered to him? Belle had shown no real interest in them. She certainly did not smile at them the way she would smile at him.

He should have trusted her.

He should have believed in her.

Why had he not? Why had he allowed all his insecurities to surface? Belle had never given Erik any reason to believe that she would leave him. She had never given him any reason to believe that she desired someone else. No. Every time Erik looked into Belle's lovely eyes, all he could see was the desire for him...the desire to love and be loved by him...the desire to be protected and trusted by him. Though she had not given Erik her body, Belle had nevertheless given him her heart. She had truly been his. True happiness was finally in Erik's reach...

And then he had to destroy it all!

"You've done it again, Erik..." Christine's voice drifted through his head and was followed by her tinkling laughter. "You've driven away yet another woman."

Erik's body trembled and he hurriedly retreated into his room. "You're wrong," he growled softly as he closed the door.

"Am I, indeed?" Christine's voice taunted. "She'll never let you touch her now. She will shrink from your touch as all women have done."

"Leave me in peace," Erik hissed.

"She will want nothing to do with you now, Erik," Christine's voice continued. "Just like me...just like your mother...your precious Belle will come to fear and loathe you."

"Stop it..." Erik ran agitated hands through his hair.

"No love..." Christine's voice was soft.

"Leave me alone...!" He was standing in front of a mirror now.

"No love...!" Christine's voice grew louder--refusing to be ignored.

With a wordless roar, Erik punched a fist through the mirror. He did not care about his bleeding and wounded hand. That pain was superficial compared to the wounds of his bleeding and wounded heart. "Oh, Belle..." Erik's voice was barely above a whisper as he fell to the floor and curled up in the fetal position. "Belle, my love...please..." Tears streamed down his face. "Please forgive me..."

"No love..." Though Christine's voice was a whisper now, it nevertheless echoed through Erik's mind like a foghorn. "No love for the Devil's child."


	12. Chapter 12

Please review! I love hearing from my readers! I live for reviews, and I do in fact allow anonymous reviews, so don't be shy! If you have reviewed, I heartily thank you! Please note that while I welcome constructive criticism, all flamers will be strung up with the Punjab lasso!

Also, please allow me to apologize for any grammatical errors when using French phrases.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'Phantom of the Opera' (any of the renditions) or any of the cannon characters...unfortunately...(God, I wish I owned Erik!) I'm not making any money from this, I'm just writing this for fun. I do however own Annabelle and any other OCs you may find in the story.

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

* * *

Erik came down to the breakfast table to find Annabelle's chair vacant. It was the chair to the right of his own seat at the head of the table, and as he slowly ran his hand over the chair back, he imagined the petite blond sitting in the chair...smiling at him...laughing with him...telling him with her eyes that she loved him. As he began serving out some eggs and sausages onto Annabelle's plate, Erik wondered how he would even begin to make up for what had occurred last night? How would he even begin to beg for his Belle's forgiveness?

Never in his life had Erik felt so ashamed!

How could he have treated his Belle so horribly? She had done nothing to deserve it. She was an angel...his angel. She deserved to be cherished and protected like the precious gem she was...but instead, he had dragged her down into the depths of his miserable and wretched Hell!

Erik looked up with a small start when he heard the door creak open, and the smile that formed on his lips upon seeing the lovely blond tentatively step into the room instantly fell when he saw the fear in her eyes. Though her lovely face was a blank, impartial mask, the fear in those beautiful eyes was unmistakable.

Erik wanted to die!

He had done this to his Belle. He had made her afraid of him. Through no fault other than his own, he had taken something beautiful and turned it into something ugly. Through his own jealous rage, he had destroyed the trust his angel had once had for him.

"Good morning, Belle," he said softly, all the while his mind racing in search of ways to heal the breach between the delicate blond and himself.

"Good morning, monsieur," Belle replied softly--staying firmly where she was with her back against the door.

Monsieur?

The word was so simple, yet it held great weight. Annabelle had called him 'monsieur', and to Erik, that one word was like a dagger to his heart. Where there had once been a relaxed and trusting openness between them, there was now a great wall. Was it impenetrable? Would Erik be able to break it down?

Erik was going to do everything he could to tear it down!

"Please, won't you sit down, Belle?" Erik asked as he pulled the chair out.

Annabelle stepped towards the table, but pulled out the chair that was to the right of the chair Erik was holding out for her, and sat down with her hands folded neatly in her lap. She kept her gaze averted downward, though she watched Erik warily out of the corner of her eye.

She looked like a baby deer ready to bolt at the first sign of danger--and it made Erik's heart ache. How he longed to make things right! But how? Erik had no experience in this sort of thing. Perhaps apologizing would mend the rift between them...

"Belle..." Erik moved to Annabelle's side and dropped to his knees beside her--unable to ignore how she shrank from him. Where it not for the hand he wrapped around the girl's delicate wrist, he had not doubt that she would have bolted. As it was, he could feel her trembling in fear. "Belle, please...I am so very sorry for what happened last night. There are no words that can even begin to express the depths of my sorrow and regret over my actions."

"Please let go of me, monsieur." Annabelle's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Not until you listen to what I have to say." Erik sighed. "I know that I do not deserve your forgiveness, Belle...but I am begging you to find it in your heart to forgive my actions from last night. They were wrong, and I had no right to act in such a way." His free hand gently turned Annabelle's face towards him, but the girl's eyes remained fixed on the collar of his jacket. "Please, ma petite...will you not look at me?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because if I look at you, I know that I will forgive you...and I can't do that." Annabelle took a deep breath and let it out slowly as though gathering her courage. "I know why you did what you did, Erik...in the five hours that I couldn't sleep last night, I went over everything in my mind, and I realized that up until the moment I was acknowledged by those three gentlemen, that you were as sweet and gentle as a lamb. You let your jealousy control you, and I suffered for it."

"Belle..."

"You've had a hard life Erik...I know that. Every time I looked into your eyes, I could see the pain and anguish of your past. I could see the hurt brought on by years of neglect, abuse and other such torment as I can't even imagine. You have been denied love for your entire life all the while you had to endure watching over people enjoy it. But that doesn't excuse what you did to me last night...what you tried to do to me."

"No it doesn't," Erik agreed softly as he hung his head.

"Have I ever given you any reason not to trust me?"

"No."

"Have I ever given you any reason to think that I wanted another?"

"No."

"Have I ever given you reason to suspect that my kisses and caresses weren't heartfelt?"

"No."

"Did I not tell you that you were the one I desired most? Did I not tell you that I wanted you to be the one I gave my innocence to?"

"Yes."

"I have done everything you've ever asked of me. I have kept every single promise I made to you."

"I know..." At that moment, Erik felt less than an inch tall.

"My heart was yours. Last night, should you have asked me...I would have even given my body to you even without having seen what you hide behind your mask. All you had to do last night was ask, and I would've been yours without so much as a second thought. I would have been yours, mind body and soul. But you didn't ask, monsieur...you tried to tried to take, and for what? Trying to prove to yourself that I belonged to you? You acted no better than a wild dog."

Erik's bottom lip trembled and a tear rolled down his cheek.

"I gave you my complete and total trust..." Her voice was wavering now. "And at the first test, you had no trust in me." A tear rolled down her cheek. "You were supposed to be the one man I could trust...and you betrayed me." Another tear rolled down her cheek. She was completely and utterly heartbroken. "You betrayed me, Erik!"

"I know..." Erik's voice trembled with the heaviness of his guilt and despair. He raised his face and another tear rolled down his cheek. "I am so sorry, Belle. Please forgive me. Please Belle...please let me make it right." He tried to turn that lovely, tear-stained face towards him, but its owner recoiled.

Wrenching her wrist free from Erik's grasp, Annabelle leapt from her chair and put as much distance as she could between Erik and herself. "Stay away from me." She wrapped her arms tightly around her trembling frame. "You want to make things right...you want things back to the way they were, but they can never be that way again. Don't you understand that? I can never trust you again...not the way I used to." Tears were streaming down her face now. "How can I ever trust you again when I know that in your heart of hearts you don't trust me?"

Erik did not bother to hide his tears. "But, Belle...I love you. I love you so much that it hurts."

Annabelle slowly shook her head, her voice quavering with despair. "There can be no love without trust. So long as you don't trust me...I know that you can never truly love me."

Erik knew that if he wanted his beloved to come back to him, it would take more than a heartfelt apology and a showering of gifts. At that precise moment, Erik knew what would make things right--the ultimate display of his trust.

He only hoped that he had the courage to go through with it.

"You're right, Belle...everything you have said has been right. You have given me more than I could ever ask for in one lifetime. You have given me your heart...you have given me your trust. I treasure every kiss I have ever received from you, along with every touch and kind word." His voice remained soft the entire time he spoke. "And you are right...at the first test of trust, I failed you. But no more." He kept his gaze fixed on his despairing angel. "I will prove my trust to you, Belle," he said softly as he slowly wiped the tears from his face. "I will prove to you just how much I love you...how much I trust you...how much you mean to me."

Annabelle wiped away her tears with a shaky hand. "How?" she asked mournfully.

Erik's hands slowly and fearfully moved to the ties that held his mask in place. He knew there was no danger of them being interrupted. Neither Mrs. Pierce nor the new maid would come into the room unless rang for.

Annabelle's eyes widened. "What're you doing?"

"Showing my trust in you, ma petite Belle," Erik said softly.

"But I promised you that I would never ask you to remove your mask."

"Ah, but you didn't ask," Erik said as he undid the ties. "I am doing this of my own volition, Belle. For you see...for me, this is the ultimate display of trust. By willingly showing you what I have kept hidden from the rest of the world, I am putting my trust in you to not be like the women of my past. I am trusting you to be able to do what my own mother could not. If you truly love me, then you will be able to gaze upon me without fear or loathing."

"Erik--"

"Please Belle...let me do this..." Though he was resolved, Erik's voice trembled with fear. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly and tightly shut his eyes as he removed his mask.

Time stood still.

The silence in the room was deafening.

Erik kept his hands clenched and his body trembled with the urge to run...to bolt from the room and to lock himself in the safety of his own chambers. But he stayed firmly rooted to the spot. The time for running was over. Fate had given him a true chance at love, and Erik refused to let that chance slip through his fingers.

But why had Belle not said anything? Had she fainted? Erik had not heard the sound of a body falling. Had she left the room? He had not heard the sound of fleeing footsteps. No...the delicate blond was still in the room. What was she thinking? Was she in shock? Erik was too afraid to open his eyes and find out. When he heard the rustle of fabric, he was too afraid to open his eyes--fearing to see the object of his desire and affection feeling from him.

However, when he felt Belle's little and delicate hands caressing his face in its entirety, he could not stop his eyes from opening. There was no fear in her lovely eyes nor anywhere on her angelic face. There was only love and understanding. "Belle?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Erik...my Erik..." Annabelle murmured softly as she pressed light, tender kisses over every inch of Erik's marred face.

Tears formed in Erik's eyes from the delicate blonde's tenderness. He could see the love in those beautiful eyes, and he could hardly believe that he was seeing it. "Belle...please forgive me. I beg of you..."

Annabelle brushed a tender kiss to Erik's lips. "I forgive you, my love."

Erik's legs could not longer hold him, and he fell to his knees in front of Annabelle and wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face against her abdomen. "Belle...oh my beautiful angel...I love you. I love you so much."

Annabelle stroked and ran her fingers through Erik's hair as she cradled him against her. "Erik my love...I love you too." She dropped to her knees and tenderly cupped her beloved's face in her hands. "All of you," she said softly as she pressed loving kisses to the marred half of Erik's face. "My heart belongs to you, my love. You and you alone." She tenderly kissed away his tears before lightly brushing a kiss to his lips. "Thank you for trusting me."

"Belle...my Belle..." Erik wrapped his arms around his beloved Belle and gently pressed her to him--tears of the purest bliss streaming down his cheeks as his lips captured hers in a slow, tender kiss. His heart felt as though it would explode in his chest.

"Yes, Erik," Belle whispered sweetly against her beloved's lips. "Yours...and yours alone, my darling."

Erik kissed her again simply because he could. His Belle...his angel had returned to him. She had pulled him out of Hell with her gentle touch, and with a tender kiss, she had shown him the wonderful beauty of true love.

Christine would never haunt him again. Her visage would never again torture his dreams. Her voice would never again whisper through his mind. There was no room for her now that he was filled down to his very essence with nothing but Belle...

Her sweet voice would forever be in his ears. Her sweet, intoxicating scent would forever be in his nose. Her sweet and angelic face coupled with her loving smile would forever be in his mind's eye. The taste of her sweet, loving kisses would forever be on his tongue.

Christine was Erik's past, and Erik knew now that she was never meant for him. Christine was never meant to be his.

Belle was Erik's true destiny. Within the beautiful and precious girl in his arms lay Erik's future. Belle was a more cherished gift than Erik could ever have hoped to receive in his lifetime.

Slowly breaking the kiss, Erik rested his forehead against his beloved's, and as he held her close, he could not stop himself from softly singing. "Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime..."

"I will," Annabelle answered softly as she tenderly kissed Erik's eyelids.

A tear rolled down Erik's cheek. "Lead me, save me from my solitude..."

"I will," Annabelle whispered as she gazed into Erik's eyes.

"Share each day with me...each night, each morning..." One of Erik's hands continued holding the delicate blond close while his other reverently caressed her soft, golden tresses.

"I will," Annabelle whispered sweetly as she tenderly kissed Erik's disfigured cheek.

Another tear rolled down Erik's cheek. "Anywhere you go, let me go too..."

Annabelle slid her arms around Erik's neck and kissed away his tears before smiling sweetly up at him. "I will."

Erik's voice trembled with the strength of his emotions. "Sweet Belle...that's all I ask of you...!"

Annabelle pressed her lips against Erik's in a sweet kiss. "For as long as I live, Erik," she murmured softly against his lips. "I will do all you have asked of me...with a happy smile and a loving heart."

"Belle...oh, how I love you!" As he kissed his beloved once more, Erik's eyes fluttered closed...only to open moments later to find that he was alone in his bed. Sitting bolt upright, Erik frantically cast his gaze around his dark room, and the realization of the situation crashed upon him like a massive wall.

He had dreamt the entire thing! Belle's words...her kisses...Erik had dreamt the entire thing.

None of it had happened!

"No..." Erik whispered pitifully. It had all felt so real. He had felt the delicate blond in his arms. He had heard her...tasted her...smelled her. It had been so real!

It was a cruel God indeed who looked down upon him! For what else but a cruel God would torture him this way?

"As though I were not miserable and wretched enough, you have to kick me while I'm down?" Erik demanded through gritted teeth. If I did not hate you before, I truly hate you now. Curse you!" Tears streamed down his face, and his entire body trembled. "Curse you...!" Erik had not felt so hopelessly broken since he was a child, and as he curled up in the fetal position, he hugged one of his pillows to him and wept into its soft surface with the reckless abandon of a lost child.

* * *

**A/N: **Yeah...I'm evil, I know lol.


	13. Chapter 13

Please review! I love hearing from my readers! I live for reviews, and I do in fact allow anonymous reviews, so don't be shy! If you have reviewed, I heartily thank you! Please note that while I welcome constructive criticism, all flamers will be strung up with the Punjab lasso!

Also, please allow me to apologize for any grammatical errors when using French phrases.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'Phantom of the Opera' (any of the renditions) or any of the cannon characters...unfortunately...(God, I wish I owned Erik!) I'm not making any money from this, I'm just writing this for fun. I do however own Annabelle and any other OCs you may find in the story.

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**

* * *

_...Two days later..._

Two days...

It had been two days since Erik had tried to rape her...

And he still had not apologized!

Out of fear, Annabelle had hidden in her room--unsure how she would be able to face Erik after what had almost happened, and unsure of what would happen if they were alone together. He had not sought her out to seek forgiveness for what he had almost done. He had not requested her company; he had not even sent her a note. If Annabelle had not felt betrayed before, she certainly did now. To her, Erik's lack of contrition was a sign that he had never truly cared for her in the first place, and that thought made her heart break all over again.

Annabelle was miserable.

She barely touched the food Mrs. Pierce brought to her room...a few bites at most, and spent most of her time curled up in bed--weeping the tears of a grieving lover. Her heart ached. She missed Erik desperately...his voice, his smile, his scent...the way she felt when she was with him. Perhaps she had been wrong in her thinking that Erik cared for her.

She was such a fool!

Gripping her pillow, Annabelle buried her face in its soft surface and screamed--a fresh flood of tears streaming down her face. In all her life, the delicate blond had never wept so much, and yet she showed no signs of stopping. She felt as though her wounded heart would never heal...that it would never beat again without Erik's love...

What would become of her now? Erik clearly cared nothing for her. She could not stay locked in her room forever. It would only be a matter of time before Erik would force his way in and finish the task he had started.

Annabelle could not allow that to happen.

Perhaps she would run away...run away into the night and throw herself into the cold sea where her salty tears could become one with the salty ocean as her final breaths rippled out around her...

The sound of scratching at her door combined with frantic mewing drew Annabelle out of her dark and morbid thoughts. and though her first instinct was to turn away from her door, there was an urgency in Tatiana's meows that could and would not be ignored. Sighing, Annabelle slipped out of bed and padded to the door, opening it just enough for the elegant feline to slip through. "What is it?" she asked softly as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

Tatiana darted into the room and frantically circled Annabelle's ankles before darting back out into the corridor and mewing loudly.

Annabelle opened the door a little more and watched as the Siamese hurried to Erik's door, frantically scratch and yowl before turning her large, blue eyes to her. For all her feelings of betrayal, Annabelle could not ignore the sinking feeling that something was terribly wrong. Not bothering to put on a robe over her nightgown, the delicate blond stepped out into the corridor and stopped in front of Erik's door--lightly knocking. "Monsieur?" she asked softly.

Silence was her answer.

Tatiana yowled again before scratching frantically at the door.

Annabelle knocked again. "Erik?" When she was answered once more by silence, the delicate blond took a deep breath and gathered her courage. "Erik, I'm coming in." Testing the door, she found it was unlocked, and the moment she pushed it open, Tatiana darted inside. Cautiously casting her gaze around the room, Annabelle could see no sign of Erik. Tentatively stepping into the dark room, the delicate blond followed the sound of Tatiana's frantic mewing.

She cried out softly upon feeling a sharp, stabbing pain on the bottom of her foot, and she carefully hobbled over to the dresser were she was just able to make out the shape of a candle. Lighting the match she found, Annabelle lit the candle and peered down at her foot to find a small shard of glass protruding from the smooth skin. Carefully pulling the shard out of her foot, Annabelle's eyes widened as she made out several broken shards of glass on the floor by the light of the candle.

What had happened?

Moving the candle, Annabelle gingerly hobbled along, taking care to avoid the glass--only to stop cold in her tracks when she saw the trail of blood. "Erik?" she called out softly--her voice trembling with a growing fear. Following the sound of Tatiana's mournful mewing, Annabelle's eyes widened as the light of the candle fell upon Erik's limp figure laying on the floor--both his wrists slit.

Annabelle screamed and hurried to Erik's side, dropping to her knees and just barely managing to put the candle down before cradling the fallen man in her arms. "Erik?! Erik, no!" Reaching to the nearby wash basin, the delicate blond took two towels and wrapped them around Erik's wrists in an effort to staunch the blood flow. "SOMEONE HELP!!" she screamed. "HELP! PLEASE, SOMEONE HELP!!"

It was at that moment, that Annabelle noticed that Erik's mask had fallen from his face, and she could do little else but take in the sheer horror of what had been until that moment kept so painstakingly hidden from her. The newly exposed half of Erik's face was ugly. There was no way around it. Not even in her wildest dreams could Annabelle have imagined the horror of Erik's disfigurement, but strangely enough, she found that it did not matter to her.

As the sound of rapid footsteps hurried in the direction of the room, she quickly replaced Erik's mask on his face, wanting to spare him the ridicule of others; and while she waited for help to come, all Annabelle could do was cradle Erik in her arms and whisper soothing words to him as she slowly rocked him back and forth--a fresh flood of tears streaming down her face as she hoped and prayed for a miracle.

* * *

_"Ach, ich fühl's, es ist verschwunden,  
ewig hin der liebe glück!  
Nimmer kommt ihr wonnestunde  
meinem herzen mehr zurück!  
Sieh', Tamino, diese tränen,  
fließen, trauter, dir allein!  
Fühlst du nicht der liebe sehnen,  
so wird ruh' im tode sein!"_

Singing...

Erik was in a dark space, and he could hear singing. There were no words in the human language that could describe the beauty of the voice that surrounded him like a warm blanket. Could he be in Heaven? He had to be...for truly, no one but the angels could sing like that...

Recognition suddenly stirred within Erik. He knew that aria. Why would an angel be singing that particular song? Whose voice was singing to him? It sounded so familiar to him somehow...

Erik was still alive. He could still feel his limbs. But more to the point, he could feel a pair of arms around him...he could feel the soft warmth of another's body pressed against him...he could smell the sweet scent of roses and gardenias.

He knew those arms...

He knew that body...

He knew that scent...

Clawing his way back to consciousness, Erik slowly opened his eyes. The unmasked half of his face was pillowed against a soft, warm bosom. Slowly, as though afraid it would all suddenly vanish, Erik move his gaze upwards...past the graceful neck and past the delicate jaw line until he was able to take in the kissable lips, the straight nose and gorgeous eyes that were all so perfectly situated in the face he so adored. For several moments, Erik dared not to blink--fearing the visage would disappear from his sight should he close his eyes for even a moment.

"Belle?" Erik whispered softly.

"Yes," was the soft reply.

"Belle...is that really you?"

"Yes, Erik," Annabelle answered softly.

"Are you...are you certain that I am not dreaming?"

"Yes, Erik," Annabelle said with the softest of smiles. "I'm right here with you." She tenderly caressed the unmasked half of Erik's face like one would a lover. "I'll never leave you again," she said softly.

Annabelle's hurt and betrayal over Erik's actions had vanished the moment she had seen his face. As she had taken in the horrid sight of Erik's disfigurement...the taught, scarred and almost corpse like appearance, the delicate blond felt only the deepest love for the man in her arms...and she now truly understood the reason behind Erik's actions. She now understood Erik's desperation for love and the basic human contact he had been denied for his entire life. Considering the extent of his disfigurement, was it any wonder that he lived in constant fear that Annabelle would one day shun him for another?

Erik glanced down at his bandaged wrists. "I forgot to lock my door, didn't I?"

"I'm glad you did," Annabelle said softly as she caressed Erik's hair.

"I couldn't face you after what happened," Erik said softly. "I was so ashamed of myself...and I was so heavy with guilt that I couldn't even bring myself to face you long enough to apologize..."

"So you tried to kill yourself instead?" Annabelle asked mournfully.

"At least you would have been free of me." Erik said softly. His bottom lip trembled and he closed his eyes to fight back the tears. "Oh, Belle...my dear, precious Belle...I am so sorry for what happened...for what I almost did to you."

"Erik, I forgive you," Annabelle said softly.

Erik hung his head in shame and tears rolled down his face. "I do not deserve your forgiveness, my angel. I betrayed your trust." His body trembled. "What I did was inexcusable."

"Erik..."

"Please, Belle...let me finish," Erik pleaded. "My life was a miserable and wretched one...until you came. You accepted me and did everything I ever asked of you. You trusted me...yet at the first test, my trust in you failed. You have given me no reason to doubt you, and yet when those gentlemen..." He shook his head ruefully. "I panicked and became consumed by old jealousies and fears when I should have trusted in you--" He was silenced when his lips were captured in the most tender of kisses.

"I understand," Annabelle said softly as she gently cupped Erik's face in her hands. "I understand why you did what you did."

"How?" Erik asked mournfully. "How could you possibly understand?"

Annabelle was quiet for several moments before answering. "I was the one who found you with your wrists cut...and your mask..."

"Oh, no..." Erik breathed softly as his eyes widened in terror. "You saw...?"

"Yes," Annabelle answered with a small nod. "It had fallen off...I put it back on you before Mrs. Pierce and the others came...I didn't know if they had seen your face..."

"They have not," Erik said softly. "I thank you for your discretion, Belle." He clenched his jaw a little. "So you have forgiven me out of pity..."

"No, Erik," Annabelle said softly but firmly. "Not pity. While I may pity you because of what you were forced to endure in your life...I don't pity you because of your appearance." She moved to remove Erik's mask, and when the man shrank from her touch, she pressed sweet, lingering kisses to his lips. "Trust me, Erik," she whispered. "Please..." When Erik sighed in resignation, Annabelle removed the mask--placing it on the bed as she pressed tender and loving kisses over every inch of the disfigured flesh.

"How can you bear to do that?" Erik's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Love, Erik," Annabelle murmured softly before cupping her beloved's face in her hands and gazing down into his eyes. "Love allows me to gaze upon you without fear."

"You love me?" A tear rolled down Erik's face.

"Yes, Erik," Annabelle answered softly with the sweet smile that she reserved for Erik alone. "For better or worse, I love you."

So overcome by his emotions, Erik could form no words. Instead, he buried his face in his beloved's neck and wept with reckless abandon as he clung to her like a drowning man clinging to a piece of driftwood.

Annabelle held Erik close as he wept...one hand gently rubbing his back while the other smoothed his hair. Without realizing it, she began softly humming the 'Ode to Joy' chorus from Beethoven's 9th symphony.

Erik's weeping stopped immediately, and he slowly raised his head so he was gazing straight into the delicate blonde's eyes. "That was your voice I heard while I was sleeping..." he said softly. "You can sing...why did you tell me that you could not, when you have a voice that would make even the angels weep? Why would you lie to me, Belle?"

Annabelle averted her eyes and was silent for several moments. "Because the truth brings back too many painful memories," she said softly at last.

"Will you not tell me?" Erik asked gently.

How could Annabelle deny Erik the truth? She had begged him to trust her, and he had. How could she in good conscience not do the same for him? She could not. "Very well," she said softly before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "When my parents died...I was adopted by cruel and harsh man. I was little more than a slave in his house...but it wasn't until he learned of my voice that my situation took a turn for the worse."

"How do you mean?" Erik asked softly.

"Until that moment, music was the one joy I had left in my life...but then he destroyed it. For years I underwent training with the finest teachers so that I could become the best singer...and further add to my benefactor's wealth." There was a bitterness to Annabelle's voice when she uttered the word 'benefactor'. "Mistakes were out of the question...not unless I wanted to be punished."

"Punished?" Erik asked.

Annabelle nodded. "He sat in on every one of my lessons...and for every mistake I made, I would suffer blows from his fists when we got home."

Erik's body trembled with rage.

"I learned to have perfect pitch out of sheer self-preservation...but even that did not save me from his cruelty." She seemed to draw in on herself. "For every role I was denied...for every time I fell ill and was unable to sing...for any bad review I was given...he would find new ways to punish me...dragging along the floor by my hair, pushing me down the stairs, choking me..." Her body trembled violently at the memories she was being forced to relive in her mind.

Erik gathered the delicate, trembling girl into his arms and cradled her. "You don't have to tell me anymore," he murmured softly. Inside, his rage boiled at the thought of what his precious angel had endured for no reason other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. For all the wrongs he had committed in his lifetime, Erik never once struck or beaten women or children.

"That's how I came to be here," Annabelle explained. "I finally gathered up enough courage and ran away."

Erik nuzzled that golden hair. "I am so glad you did. Belle..." He tenderly kissed his beloved's forehead. "My precious angel...no harm will ever befall you again, my love." He gently kissed away the tears that had rolled down the delicate girl's face. "You can sing as much as you want without fear."

Annabelle smiled sweetly up at her beloved and tenderly kissed his lips. "For you, I would gladly sing, my love."

Erik gently pressed his forehead to the delicate blonde's. "I love you, Belle," he said softly. "I love you so much it hurts."

Annabelle nestled herself trustingly against Erik's body. "And I love you, Erik...more than I've ever loved anyone."

Erik gazed into those lovely, deep pools. "My sweet, beautiful Belle...if you'll have me, I promise to protect you and keep you safe for the rest of my life. No other man will ever love you like I do, and I will never love another but you, even until my dying day."

"Are you asking me to marry you, Erik?" Annabelle asked softly, her heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird.

"Yes, ma petite ange," Erik said with a nod. "Will you share your life and love with me?" he asked softly.

"I will," Annabelle answered softly with a smile.

"Will you share each day with me? Each night? Each morning?" Erik asked softly.

"I will."

"Anywhere you go, will you let me go too?"

"I promise," Annabelle answered.

Erik smiled and pressed a kiss to his betrothed's soft lips. "And what would you ask of me, my love?"

"Love me," Annabelle murmured simply against her beloved's lips.

Erik's heart skipped a beat. "I promise," he said as he pressed another kiss to his love's lips. "My love," he murmured reverently as he tentatively deepened the kiss--his heart soaring when his precious angel welcomed his efforts and opened her mouth to him. Tears of the purest bliss rolled down Erik's cheeks as his tongue danced a slow waltz with his beloved's and has his hands gently tangled into her silken hair.

He could not believe how close he had come to losing all of this! He had come so close to never seeing his beloved Belle again...to never hearing her voice or tasting the sweetness of her kisses. "I love you," he murmured as he kissed his love's forehead and eyelids. "I love you, Belle." He kissed the tip of her nose. "I love you."

"I love you, Erik," Annabelle murmured. "I love you..." She pressed tender kisses all over Erik's face, paying particular attention to the deformed half...kissing and nuzzling each and every distortion. "...all of you..."

Erik captured his precious Belle's lips in a deep kiss--still amazed that he was able to do so. If he lived a thousand years, Erik knew that he would never take his beloved for granted. He would cherish every touch, every smile and every kiss. They would all be equally precious because they would be given by Belle...his Belle. She was a blessing in the truest sense of the word...a gift from Heaven. She was his salvation. She was his angel...

But more importantly, she was his. She had chosen him. She had said 'yes' to him. She was the other half of his soul...the missing piece of his heart, and Erik intended to worship and cherish her for the rest of his life.

* * *

**A/N:**I hope this makes all of you happy, lol. The aria Erik was hearing while he was unconscious is from 'Die Zauberflöte' (The Magic Flute) by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Here's the translation...

"Ah, I feel it, it has disappeared  
forever gone love's happiness!  
Nevermore will come the hour of bliss  
back to my heart!  
See, Tamino, these tears,  
flowing, beloved, for you alone!  
If you don't feel the longing of love  
then there will be peace in death!"


	14. Chapter 14

Please review! I love hearing from my readers! I live for reviews, and I do in fact allow anonymous reviews, so don't be shy! If you have reviewed, I heartily thank you! Please note that while I welcome constructive criticism, all flamers will be strung up with the Punjab lasso!

Also, please allow me to apologize for any grammatical errors when using French phrases.

**Warning:**Sexual content...there, you've been warned, lol ;-p But seriously, this chapter is purely sexual, it does not contain any material that advances the plot forward. So, if you choose not to read it, you won't be missing any valuable plot points.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'Phantom of the Opera' (any of the renditions) or any of the cannon characters...unfortunately...(God, I wish I owned Erik!) I'm not making any money from this, I'm just writing this for fun. I do however own Annabelle and any other OCs you may find in the story.

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen**

* * *

Erik awoke the next morning to find his beloved Belle nestled against him, and his heart felt it would burst from happiness. Her breath was soft and warm upon his neck as her head was pillowed trustingly upon his shoulder, and her little hands gently gripped the front of his nightshirt--holding Erik close to her even as she slept. They had fallen asleep in each other's arms after spending hours holding and kissing each other as they began planning their future. They had agreed on a small wedding. Belle would have been happy with it just being the two of them and a few witnesses, but Erik refused to deny his precious angel a proper wedding...not when she had given him so much.

But that had not been all they had discussed...

His beloved wanted children, and the thought of that still made Erik's heart flutter. The fact that Belle wanted to bear his children despite the possibility that they could be born with his deformities made the former opera ghost want to weep, and indeed, he had in fact wept when she told him. The beautiful woman in Erik's arms not only wanted to be his wife and lover, but she wanted him to fill her with his seed. Never in his wildest of fantasies could he have imagined such perfect happiness, and he could not stop himself now from gently pressing a hand to his betrothed's abdomen. That flat belly would one day grow round with his children, and Erik vowed to give them every bit of love and affection that he himself was denied as a child. No child of his would ever know the pain of neglect and rejection at the hands of a parent.

No...

Any child born to Belle and himself would know nothing but love. They would be wanted, cherished and treated like the blessings they were. How could they be treated any other way when they would have been created out of love...out of the union of two souls and two bodies coming together as one?

Belle stirred in her sleep, and Erik brushed the lightest of kisses to her forehead before smiling tenderly when her eyelids slowly fluttered open. "Good morning, ma petite," he whispered softly.

Annabelle smiled sleepily before tenderly kissing Erik's lips as her hands lovingly cupped his face. "Good morning, my darling. Did you sleep well?"

"Better than I have in my entire life," Erik admitted before pressing a tender kiss to his beloved's sweet lips. "And yourself?"

"The same," Annabelle answered with a smile before kissing the tip of Erik's nose. "What shall we do today?"

"I have some business to attend to and a few errands to run, but they should not take me long," Erik answered with a smile. "Perhaps when I return you will sing for me?"

Annabelle smiled and pressed a lingering kiss to Erik's lips. "I'd like that," she murmured softly.

"So would I," Erik murmured in reply as his thumb began tracing lazy patterns over the part of his beloved's belly upon which it rested.

The softest of gasps caught in Annabelle's throat, her eyes fluttered closed as small shivers ran through her body, and she thought she felt her very womb quiver in response to Erik's touch. "Erik..." her voice was barely above a whisper yet filled with longing.

"Mon amour..." Erik captured his Belle's lips in a deep kiss as he gently pressed her close to his body. Both dressed only in their bedclothes, there were only thin barriers of fabric separating the two of them. He shuddered and moaned when he felt his angel's tongue brush against his in a languid caress, and his heart slammed in his chest when he felt the delicate blond roll so that he was on top of her. Cradled so perfectly in his Belle's hips, Erik became hard immediately, and it was only by a mere thread of control that he managed to break the kiss. "Belle, we should stop this now...because I know I won't be able to later." In his aroused state, his voice had become huskier than usual.

Annabelle smiled up at Erik and slid her arms around his neck--bringing herself up to kiss him. "I don't want you to stop," she whispered against her love's lips.

Erik gulped softly. "You don't?"

Annabelle gave a slow shake of her head as she kept her gaze locked with Erik's. "No I don't." She kissed him again. "I'm ready, Erik."

Erik got up onto his knees and sat back on his heels between the delicate blonde's legs. "Are you certain, Belle?" he asked softly as he gazed down at his willing love. "I do not wish to force anything on you."

Sitting up, Annabelle shifted so she was kneeling in front of Erik. "I'm sure."

A lone tear rolled down Erik's face as he gazed into his beloved's lovely face, and his heart ached when he found nothing but the deepest and purest love in her unique eyes. "I am old enough to be your father, Belle. Why would you want me? What have I done to deserve you, my angel?" he asked softly as he wrapped his arms around the delicate blonde's waist and pressed her close.

Annabelle smiled sweetly, lovingly as she slid her arms around Erik's neck. "You were born," she answered softly before brushing her lips against her beloved's. "I was born for you, Erik. I was born to love you. I know it...I can feel it. My heart...my very soul were both sleeping until I met you." As she spoke, she kept her gaze locked with her love's as she slid one hand down and rested it over Erik's heart.

Erik slowly moved one hand and rested it over his beloved's heart as he rested his forehead against hers. He could feel their hearts beating together as one, and he knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that she was the woman meant for him and him alone. All those years he had spent pining for Christine and mourning for a love that would never be...all those years wasted!

But no more.

Erik crushed the delicate blond to him and kissed her hungrily--his heart racing with excitement when he was met with no resistance. His hands slid down that petite body, and his long, skilled fingers worked to slide the hem of her nightgown up. "Belle," he murmured against his love's lips before trailing kisses down her neck. "My love..." He had the nightgown up past his lover's hips.

Annabelle gasped softly and shivered in pleasure from the combined sensations of Erik's lips and fingers on her skin, and she was only too happy to raise her arms over her head so her lover could pull off her nightgown completely. Her breath caught in her throat when Erik began leaving light, nipping kisses over her collar bone, and she could not stop her fingers from gripping her lover's nightshirt and working it upwards.

Erik chuckled softly and helped his young lover remove his nightshirt. They were both now completely naked and bare before each other, and Erik's breath caught in his throat as he watched his precious Belle sweep her gaze slowly over him. He shivered when he felt those little fingers slowly trace the scars on his chest and sides--reminders and souvenirs from his time in the gypsy freak show as well as his travels.

Though Erik was the first man Annabelle had ever seen in the nude, she could not deny her belief that he had the most beautifully masculine body. His muscles were lean and sculpted, and not even the scattered scars could detract from his beauty. "Oh, Erik, my love...such a life you've led." She pressed a tender kiss to a scar that ran over his heart. "I can only hope that I can even begin to make up for everything you've had to endure."

Erik tilted his lover's face to his and kissed her lips tenderly. "You already have." He lowered his head and pillowed them against those round, perfect breasts. They were so soft, and his precious angel cradled him to them whereas his own mother had pushed him away even when he was a baby. But here...now...

Annabelle began to tilt Erik's face up to hers, but her actions were stayed when Erik gently leaned her back and pressed kisses to the valley between her breasts, and swirled his tongue around her left nipple before suckling it into the warmth of his mouth. Annabelle's eyes widened and she cried out softly as she dug her nails into her lover's shoulders. "Erik...!" A series of soft, pleasured whimpers escaped her lips.

Erik growled softly in response to his lover's whimpers, and a swell of male pride rose within him at the knowledge that he was the one giving pleasure to the beautiful woman in his arms. But beyond that, the former opera ghost was humbled that such a beautiful woman would allow and desire him to touch and pleasure her in such a way. Releasing his lover's nipple, he kissed and nibbled his way across to her other breast and suckled that nipple into his mouth--all the while he slipped one hand down to the vulnerable juncture between his young lover's legs...a single finger slipping gently inside. He smiled against Belle's nipple when she cried out softly, her body trembling.

"Erik...what...?" Her voice was breathless.

"Ssssshh...let me worship you, ma petite ange," he whispered softly before suckling his lover's nipple back into his mouth as he slowly slid his finger in and out of Belle's tight and wet warmth...gently slipping in a second finger...then a third. The delicate blonde's hips began moving out of instinct against the movements of his hand, and he marveled at how his young lover's tight, inner walls clenched around his fingers--gripping them within her...and he could only imagine how they would feel around his aching length. But Erik pushed his own wants and desires to the side for the moment. His beloved was a virgin, and while he himself was one as well, Erik knew that it would be Belle feeling pain from his intimate invasion...and that was the last thing Erik wanted. He wanted his lover to feel as much pleasure as possible. He wanted her ready for him. His thumb inadvertently brushed against a small nub above Belle's opening, and he was immediately rewarded with a gasp followed by pleasured whimpers as his lover's body began trembling. Smiling around his beloved's nipple, Erik allowed his thumb to continue its delicious torture as his long fingers continued working.

All Annabelle could do was cling to Erik. His mouth upon her breasts...his exploring fingers inside of her vulnerable core...it was all so heady and erotic. Words failed her. All she could do was whimper in building pleasure until her eyes widened suddenly and she bit her lower lip to stifle her scream of release. Her eyes drifted closed as she fought to regain her breathing, and she was only vaguely aware of being laid down on the bed. When her eyes fluttered open once more a few moments later, it was to find Erik laying on his side beside her with a pleased smile on his face.

Erik leaned down and pressed lingering kisses to his beloved's lips. "Did you enjoy that, my love?" he murmured softly between kisses.

"Yes," Annabelle answered softly. But why did you...?"

"I wanted to be certain that you were ready for me..." A hint of worry flickered into Erik's honey colored eyes. "...so your first time would not be as painful..."

Annabelle smiled sweetly up at her lover and lovingly cupped his face in her hands as she gazed into his eyes--trying to convey the trust, love and desire she had for him. "I'm ready for you, Erik."

His heart leaping in his chest, Erik kissed his young lover deeply and moved so he was on top of her. His heart fluttered when his precious Belle automatically spread her legs for him, and when the tip of his aching length brushed against the delicate blonde's wet warmth, he could not stop the shudder from coursing through him. Slowly, Erik pushed himself inside--stopping when he reached the thin barrier which protected his lover's innocence. "Belle?" he asked softly, for the first time feeling uncertain. As wet as his lover was, she was still so very tight.

Annabelle brushed a tender kiss to Erik's lips. "I trust you," she whispered as she gazed into his eyes.

Nodding slowly, Erik rested his forehead against his beloved's, took a deep breath and broke through the barrier--taking his young lover's innocence.

Though she managed to stifle her small yelp of pain, Annabelle buried her face in Erik's shoulder--her nails digging into his shoulders as she clung to him. He was so big inside of her, and her inexperienced body screamed in protest at the sudden invasion. Through the haze of her discomfort, she could hear Erik calling her...bringing her back to him.

"Belle? Belle are you all right?" His eyes were filled with worry and his hands were painstakingly gentle as they caressed his beloved's face. "Oh, Belle my love, I am so very sorry...!"

Annabelle smiled sweetly up at Erik--any pain and discomfort she had been feeling completely forgotten when she saw the deep love and worry in her lover's eyes. "I'm all right, my love," she said softly before pressing a kiss to Erik's lips. "I'm all right."

"Are you sure?" Erik asked.

"Yes," Annabelle answered with a smile before kissing Erik again. "Make love to me, Erik."

Erik smiled and a single, blissful tear rolled down his face as he gave an experimental thrust--immediately shuddering and moaning as waves of pleasure that had for so long been unknown to him washed over him at last. Dear God, he never knew such pleasure was possible! "Oh, Belle..." He kissed her hungrily as he began thrusting slow and deep.

Annabelle moaned and whimpered softly in pleasure as Erik moved within her, and she could not stop herself from wrapping her legs around his waist in attempts to keep him buried inside of her. The earlier pain and discomfort she had felt was nothing more than a memory now. All that remained was the feeling of blissful completion one could only find by being so intimately joined with the other half of their soul. Running her fingers through Erik's hair, Annabelle lightly nibbled her lover's earlobe as he kissed and gently nipped his way down her neck. "Yes..." she murmured softly into her beloved's ear.

Encouraged, Erik quickened his thrusts--gripping the top of the headboard to deepen them. He growled softly in response to his young lover's whimpers and moans of pleasure and gently nibbled along her delicate collar bone. "I love you, Belle," he murmured as he kissed his way up his beloved's delicate throat. "I love you...!"

Annabelle's kiss to Erik's lips was both sweet and hungry. "I love you Erik...and I'm yours forever...!"

Erik at once remembered the very first dream he had had about the delicate blond, and he locked gazes with her as he continued thrusting. "Say it again, Belle...say it again, my love."

"I love you Erik," Annabelle repeated with a smile. "And I'm yours forever...!"

Erik smiled before claiming his lover's lips in a deep, hungry kiss as his thrusts became harder and faster--taking possession of the delicate blonde's very core and claiming it as his own. "Mine..." he growled softly against those soft lips before kissing them again. "Mine...!"

Annabelle's moaned whimpers became more frantic as she was driven closer to attaining what her body was screaming for. "Yes...! Yes my love...!" She pressed kisses all over Erik's face. "Yours...all yours...!" Her eyes widening, she buried her face into Erik's neck and clung to him--her nails digging into his shoulders as the entirety of her small body trembled from the intensity of her orgasm.

The moment he felt his beloved's inner walls clamp down around him, Erik could not hold back any longer, and he exploded deep inside of her...spilling his seed into his lover's waiting womb as he crushed her to him--stifling his roar of release in her delicate neck. Once his body had finished trembling, Erik rolled them both onto their sides and held his precious Belle close to him...nuzzling her hair and pressing tender kisses to her forehead. He was still inside of her...he could not bring himself to separate himself from her just yet. Erik simply wanted to bask in their blissfully delightful afterglow a few moments longer. There were no words in the human language that could express the feeling of pure, unadulterated bliss that Erik was feeling at that moment, so he said nothing, and simply contented himself with gazing into his beloved's eyes as he held her close--pulling the blankets up to cover them so his precious angel would not get cold.

Annabelle smiled and pressed tender kisses all over the disfigured half of Erik's face before gazing into his warm pools of gold. No words were necessary--Erik's eyes spoke volumes. In those lovely and unique eyes, Annabelle could see a fathomless love and desire that would put that of Paris to shame, and when she saw the lone tear roll down her lover's cheek, she knew that Erik saw the very same love and desire reflected back at him within her own eyes.

* * *

**A/N:**For those of you who don't know, Paris was the one who fell in love with Helen of Troy, abducted her and thus started the Trojan War.


	15. Chapter 15

Please review! I love hearing from my readers! I live for reviews, and I do in fact allow anonymous reviews, so don't be shy! If you have reviewed, I heartily thank you! Please note that while I welcome constructive criticism, all flamers will be strung up with the Punjab lasso! Sorry for the delay, but writer's block is a cruel and heartless bitch... -,-

**Warning:**Brief sexual content...there, you've been warned, lol ;-p

**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'Phantom of the Opera' (any of the renditions) or any of the cannon characters...unfortunately...(God, I wish I owned Erik!) I'm not making any money from this, I'm just writing this for fun. I do however own Annabelle and any other OCs you may find in the story.

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen**

* * *

_...Two days later..._

"Engaged?" Mrs. Smith's eyes were wide as she processed the news that Mrs. Pierce had just told her. "The master asked that little slip of a girl to marry him?"

Mrs. Pierce nodded as she stirred her tea. "Yes. I saw the ring myself." She sighed softly after taking a sip. "And the master is like a completely different man...he actually smiles now. He seems at peace now and not troubled or brooding as he was before. Never before have I ever seen a man so happy or so much in love."

"And what of her?" the cook asked as she dried a dish. "Does she return his love or does she just want to make herself mistress of all his possessions?"

"I believe the young Belle to be very much in love with the master," the housekeeper answered as she held her tea cup in her hands. "The way she looks at him with such adoration, the way she smiles at him...such things cannot be false. Besides...I don't think that girl is capable of being that conniving. I don't think she has it in her."

"No," Mrs. Smith said with a sigh. "Neither do I."

"Things have certainly changed since that girl came," Mrs. Pierce said softly.

"But for the better it would seem," the cook said with a small smile.

"Yes, indeed..." the housekeeper said with a small nod. "Quite for the better."

* * *

_...Music room..._

With his large sketch book propped up on his lap, Erik was busy at work drawing out possible designs for the opera house. Glancing up, he smiled when he saw his beloved playing with Tatiana by dragging a piece of ribbon along the ground. The soft, happy sound of her giggles made his heart soar...but that was nothing compared to how his heart fluttered when his Belle looked up, caught his gaze and smiled at him.

"How goes the drawing?" Annabelle asked as she scooped Tatiana up into her arms and walked over to where Erik was sitting.

"Slowly," Erik admitted as he put the pad and pencil down on the small, nearby table. "One of the flaws of being a perfectionist," he said with a small chuckle as he slid an arm around his beloved's waist and drew her gently down onto his lap. "I am my own worst and severest critic."

Annabelle fondly kissed Erik's cheek before letting her head fall onto his shoulder. "I know you'll have it come along," she said softly with a smile. "I have complete faith in you."

Erik smiled and brushed a kiss to that soft, golden hair as he gently stroked Tatiana's fur. "Then how could I possibly fail?"

Annabelle smiled and giggled softly. "You can't...that's the beauty of it," she said as she brushed a light kiss to Erik's neck--her heart fluttering in response to the shiver she was rewarded with.

Erik tilted his Belle's face up and captured her lips in a long, slow kiss--moaning softly when his tongue moved against hers in a languid caress. "I love you, Belle," he murmured against his beloved's lips.

"I love you, Erik," Annabelle murmured back before lightly nuzzling her lover's jaw.

Erik knew he would never tire of hearing those words upon his young lover's lips...not if he lived a thousand years. They would always send shivers of delight coursing through his body as his heart fluttered blissfully. His beloved did not say those words simply to say them...she meant them with every fiber of her being. Hearing those words in normal circumstances was pleasurable enough, but nothing could compare to hearing his Belle say those words when he was buried so deeply inside of her--his body and soul connected to hers in blissful union...as they had been this morning...

Erik had taken her twice that morning. He simply could not help himself. Enough was never enough...would never be enough. The first time had been slow and sweet--Erik taking his time and reveling in the delight of their joined bodies being awakened in the morning by such blissful pleasure. The second time had been more rough--Erik's hands pinning his beloved's wrists above her head as he drove possessively into her while marking secret places of her body with gentle love bites.

And his Belle...his precious angel had welcomed him each time with a loving smile and a more than willing body!

His beloved's body was so enticing...so inviting...from the curve of her hips, to the narrowness of her waist...and oh God, her breasts! Erik never tired of their softness...of how they fit so perfectly in his palms...or of how when he suckled them, he made his beloved whimper and mewl in blissful pleasure.

The sweet sounds of her pleasure still echoed through Erik's mind...her pleasured whimpers of submission as he had driven himself into her innermost warmth again and again, and her softly moaned words of encouragement as his lips and fingers sought out new pleasure giving places on her body...Erik still could not believe they had all been a result of him. He had been the one to coax those delightfully musical sounds from his beloved's throat with his own body...and the blessed sounds that escaped her throat during the bliss that only sweet release could bring...

Even in the throes of passion, his Belle's voice was so very beautiful...

"Will you sing for me?" Erik asked softly. His voice husky with the arousal his memories enticed.

"Of course," Annabelle said with a smile as she reluctantly moved from Erik's lap and handed Tatiana to him. "Would you like to hear anything in particular?"

"Whatever it is your heart desires, my love," Erik said with a smile as he stood and strode to the piano, carrying Tatiana with him and placing her down on the bench beside him. "Would you like to warm up first?"

Annabelle smiled. "Yes, please," she said as she followed Erik to the piano and stood beside it so she was facing him.

"Let us begin then." Erik's skilled fingers flew over the keys as he played several scales. Not once did his eyes leave his beloved's face. He was completely entranced by the way her entire face lit up with joy as the music flowed through her--making her appear every bit the beatific angel she was. And her voice...

Her voice!

Such clarity...such perfection...and possessing both sweetness and strength. It possessed a range unlike any he had ever heard before--able to hit High C just as easily as a note in the lower alto range. How it soared--wrapping Erik within its exquisite, indescribable beauty. It was nothing like Christine's.

It was better.

When Erik finished running his beloved through the scales, he simply sat and gazed at her in amazement. When at last he spoke, it was with a voice filled with complete awe. "Never in my entire life have I encountered a voice like yours, Belle," he said softly. "Pick an aria an begin singing...I will accompany you." He smiled reassuringly as he lightly positioned his fingers over the keys. "There is not any single opera that I do not know."

Annabelle smiled, took a deep breath and began singing for her lover--starting with the recitative...

"Giunse alfin il momento  
Che godro senz'affanno  
In braccio all'idol mio  
Timide cure uscite dal mio petto!  
A turbar non venite il mio diletto.  
O come par che all'amoroso foco  
L'amenita del loco,  
La terra e il ciel risponda.  
Come la notte i furti miei risponda.

Deh vieni, non tardar, o gioja bella  
Vieni ove amore per goder t'appella  
Finche non splende in ciel notturna face  
Finche l'aria e ancor bruna,  
E il mondo tace.  
Qui mormora il ruscel, qui scherza l'aura  
Che col dolce susurro il cor ristaura  
Qui ridono i fioretti e l'erba e fresca  
Ai piaceri d'amor qui tutto adesca.  
Vieni, ben mio, tra queste piante ascose.  
Vieni, vieni!  
Ti vo' la fronte incoronar di rose."

All the while Annabelle sang, she kept her gaze locked on Erik's. This was her song of love, and she was singing it for him--singing of how she longed to be held in his arms and revel in the joy that only love could bring.

As Erik accompanied his beloved and listened to her song of love, he felt his heart grow wings. She was singing for him...truly singing for him and him alone. But that was not the only thing that filled him with joy...

He had found his prima donna!

"Erik?"

Erik blinked to find his beloved gazing at him with concern. "Yes, my love?"

"Are you all right? You were just staring off..."

"Was I?" Erik chuckled softly. "I suppose I was." Standing, he gathered his betrothed into his arms and kissed her deeply. "Keep singing, my beloved diva," he said as he hurried back to his sketch book. "You are my inspiration...my muse. I will design the most perfect opera house for you to perform in," he said with an excited smile as he began scribbling away madly, yet with a precision that only he could muster.

Annabelle blinked in shock and surprise. "E...excuse me?"

Erik smiled as he worked. "You, my lovely little songbird, are to be the prima donna of the opera company."

"Me?"

"Yes, my precious Belle. You. For I know that no other woman I audition for that position will ever compare to you and the utter beauty and perfection that is your voice."

Annabelle's heart fluttered and raced. "Oh, Erik...I just don't know what to say."

Erik smiled. "You don't have to say anything, my love. Just sing. Sing, my angel of music! Sing for me!"

* * *

_...Stanford residence; three hours later..._

"Dessler, I must say...these designs are remarkable," Mr. Stanford said as he swept his gaze over the plans and designs Erik had created for the opera house.

"Thank you, Monsieur Stanford," Erik said with a smile and a small bow of his head. "As you can see by the way I designed the theater," Erik said as he traced his finger over the page that held a side view sketch of the inside of the stage and audience areas. "Sound will be amplified effortlessly from the stage and carry all the way to the seats in the back. So long as the builders follow my designs to the letter, the acoustics will be phenomenal."

Stanford nodded. "Very well, I'll take your word for it, Dessler. I will set things in motion...I already have my eye on a piece of land that I think will be a perfect location. Once I have purchased it, I will see to hiring the workers."

"As you like, monsieur."

Stanford regarded Erik for a few moments. "There's a change about you, Dessler."

"Is there?"

"Yes," Stanford said with a nod. "You seem...happy. Yes, I think that's the right word. You seem happy and at ease...as though this great weight has been lifted from your shoulders."

Erik smiled. "I suppose that being engaged agrees with me."

"Engaged?" Stanford's eyes widened in surprise.

"Oui," Erik said with a nod.

"Well, congratulations," Stanford said with a smile as he shook Erik's hand and lightly thumped him on the shoulder. "And who is the fortunate lady?"

"Mademoiselle Warren," Erik said with a fond smile as his beloved's smiling face filled his mind.

"Belle? Your ward?"

"Oui," Erik said with a nod. "She loves me..." His smile grew and his heart fluttered. "And I would be lying if I said that I did not feel the same way."

"Well, in that case I wish the both of you the best of luck." Stanford thumped Erik on the back once more. "Have you set a date yet?"

"The fourteenth of February," Erik said with a nod.

"That doesn't give you much time to prepare, Dessler."

Erik shrugged. "We wanted a small wedding...nothing too big or extravagant. Ma petite Belle's needs are simple, and as for myself..." He smiled fondly. "I only need my beloved bride."

Stanford chuckled. "You are a lovesick fool, Dessler."

"And I am very happy to be so," Erik said with a grin. "You and your wife are of course invited."

"Well, we will gladly attend," Stanford said with a cheerful smile.

Erik smiled. "Good. We will be sending the invitations out within the next few days.

Stanford nodded before chuckling. "My son will of course be greatly disappointed," he said with a grin.

Erik threw his head back and laughed before he could stop himself. "Oh, dear. Well, remind him to send him a note of apology later," he said with a grin.

* * *

_...Gardens..._

Her cloak protecting her from the chill in the air, Annabelle sat upon the bench she and Erik had sat on during their first visit together to the gardens--a serene smile playing upon her lips as she reveled in the tranquility of her surroundings. Spring would be coming within a little over a month, and the garden would then be filled with colorful and fragrant blooms.

Spring...

It would follow their wedding and bless their union with new flowers.

Annabelle's heart fluttered in blissful excitement. She and Erik were getting married. Within a month, she would be Mrs. Erik Dessler. She would bear his children, and the two of them would spend the rest of their lives together in wedded bliss...and she could not have been happier at the prospect. Annabelle had found her prince...her night in shining armor. Never in her life did Annabelle feel so protected as she did with Erik...like nothing ever could or would harm her again. Never in her life did Annabelle ever think that she could feel so cherished...every touch, every look, every kiss that Erik bestowed upon her spoke volumes--telling her just how deeply Erik loved her.

Then there was the matter of Erik as a lover...

Erik was incredible...attentive, thorough, passionate, and he still retained an element of gentleness even when he dominated her and took possession of her body again and again. Just the thought of Erik's body tangled with hers caused Annabelle's breasts to ache and a familiar warmth to pool between her legs. She longed for him. Her body ached for his, and she felt incomplete without him...even without simply having him next to her.

Never, not even in her wildest dreams did Annabelle ever think it possible to so completely and utterly consumed by one person...to need to be next to him...to need to gaze into his eyes and share every moment...every breath. The love she and Erik shared was a wild, blazing inferno, and Annabelle was more than happy to be consumed by its flames.

Never had Annabelle been happier. Everything in her life was perfect and like a fairytale...and she was suddenly terrified that it would all go away.

"Ah, there you are."

Annabelle smiled and her eyes fluttered closed as she melted into Erik's body when she had been encircled by his arms from behind--her earlier fears for the moment chased away. She sighed contentedly upon feeling Erik's lips brush over her cheek, and she reached up with a hand to caress her future husband's cheek. "I missed you," she said softly.

Smiling, Erik moved and sat beside his beloved on the bench, but in such a way that his back faced the direction that his Belle was facing--allowing him the ability to gaze upon his young lover without craning his body. Leaning in, he claimed those soft, rosy lips in a slow, tender kiss. "I missed you as well, my beautiful Belle," he murmured softly.

Annabelle's face was alight as she moved closer to Erik and snuggled against him--her little hands lightly clutching the lapels of his jacket.

Erik was only too happy to wrap his arms around his beloved--encircling the both of them in the warmth of his cloak. He nuzzled that silken, golden hair before pressing a tender kiss to it. "Come, let us go inside before you catch your death of cold," he said upon feeling his young lover shiver.

"Can we have hot chocolate?" Annabelle asked with an almost childlike hopefulness.

Erik smiled and chuckled before lightly kissing the tip of his lover's nose. "Whatever my sweet Belle wants, my sweet Belle gets."

* * *

_...Music room; fifteen minutes later..._

"Did your meeting go well?" Annabelle asked as she rested her head against Erik's chest and breathed in his scent. They were both seated on the armchair in front of the fire, and Annabelle was curled up comfortably in Erik's lap. Their cups of hot chocolate sat on the nearby table, easily within range.

Erik nodded before resting his chin on the top of his beloved's head. "Yes, Monsieur Stanford was very pleased with the designs. Construction will begin soon." He reached for his cup and took a sip before placing it back down on the table.

Annabelle smiled. "I'm so happy for you, Erik." She reached for he own cup and took a sip.

Erik smiled as he stroked that golden hair. "And once the opera house is complete, you will be the toast of San Francisco."

"Oh, Erik...I just don't know..." Annabelle said as she put her cup back on the table with a slightly trembling hand.

"Are you still afraid?" Erik asked softly.

Annabelle nodded slowly--ashamed at her weakness.

"There is no need to be afraid, Belle my love," Erik said softly as he gently smoothed his beloved's hair in a soothing gesture.

"But Erik...what if he finds me?" Annabelle's hands tightened around the lapels of Erik's jacket and she cowered against his strong, lean body. "He'll try to take me from you."

Erik's eyes narrowed and his arms tightened possessively around the delicate girl in his arms. "No one will take you from me, Belle." There was a growl to his voice. "You're mine, Belle, and no one will ever take you from me. I won't let them." He tilted that angelic face up to his. "And by the time the opera house opens, you will already be my wife." His eyes were possessive as they bored into those of his betrothed. "You may already be mine in body and soul...but once we are husband and wife, you will be mine by law. Your adoptive father will have no claim over you."

"But what if he finds me before then?" Annabelle asked meekly. Erik's grip was so tight around her, but Annabelle did not complain. Instead, she nestled as much as she could into him--trying desperately to feel safe again.

"Then I will kill him," Erik answered. His grip never once loosened around his beloved.

"Erik, no...I don't want your hands stained."

"Nothing can stop that now," Erik said softly before he could stop himself.

"What do you mean?" Annabelle asked softly.

"Nothing," Erik answered hurriedly.

"Erik..."

"It is in the past, Belle."

"Why do you hide it from me?" Annabelle asked softly. "Why won't you share it with me after everything we've already shared with each other?"

"Because my past is a dark and bloody one," Erik said softly. "It is no place for someone as pure and innocent as you...and if I were to tell you..." he let the thought drift off.

"Don't you trust that I'll still love you?" Annabelle asked softly.

Erik buried his face in his beloved's hair. "How could you? How could you once you knew the truth?"

Annabelle tilted her face up to Erik's and gently cupped his face in her little hands. She slowly removed his mask and placed it on the table beside their cups of hot chocolate. "Your face holds no horror for me, my love. What makes you think that your past would?"

"Belle..."

"Would it make you feel better if I shared something? Would you feel more at ease if I shared something of my past first?" She did not want Erik to be afraid of losing her, and there was something she was dying to get off her chest.

Erik blinked. "What do you mean?"

Annabelle averted her eyes.

"Belle?"

"Annabelle," she said softly.

"What?"

Annabelle slowly raised her gaze back to Erik's. "My real name is Annabelle."

"Why would you lie to me about that?" Erik asked softly. Why would she lie to him about something so simple?

"Because...the only one who ever called me by that name was my adoptive father..."

Though understanding filtered into Erik's eyes, his brows nevertheless drew together. "What did your parents call you?"

"My mother called me 'Anna'," Annabelle answered. "My father called me 'Belle'."

"I see," Erik said with a small nod. "Well...what shall I call you then?"

"Belle," she answered. "I like the way it sounds on your voice," she said with a small smile before it wavered. "The last time I was called by my real name was the night I ran away," Belle said softly. "When he..." she drifted off and shuddered.

"When he what?" Erik asked.

Belle's body was trembling now as she forced herself to relive her darkest of memories. "He...he tried to...forcibly take what I gave so willingly to you." Her little hands tightly clutched the fabric of Erik's jacket. "He almost succeeded."

Erik's strong, lean body trembled with a building, barely contained rage. "What? He tried to...?"

"He came into my room while I sleeping...and he tore my nightgown from my body." She shuddered. "I can still smell the alcohol on his breath. I managed to hit him over the head with a candlestick before he could do anything." A tear rolled down Belle's cheek. "While he was unconscious, I dressed, took whatever money I could find, then packed a small bag and ran." She buried her face in Erik's chest. "I'm so sorry for not telling you sooner, but I just...I couldn't bring myself to relive it in my mind."

"Oh, Belle..." There was a wrathful buzzing in Erik's head as he took in what Belle had just told him. There was no doubt in Erik's mind that if he ever met the man who had treated Belle so abominably that he would kill him. He would kill him in the worst way he could imagine, and Erik could imagine several horrible ways to put someone to death.

"Do you hate me?"

"Never." Erik gently tilted his lover's face up to his. "My dear, sweet, brave Belle...you, I could never hate." He tenderly kissed Belle's forehead. "I love you so dearly...so deeply. You are so very precious to me, and I promise to protect you from the ugliness of this world. What happened in your past...it does not matter. You may have been 'Annabelle' in Pennsylvania, but that does not matter now. You are my precious Belle...you will always be my Belle, and that is all that matters to me." His lips were so very tender as they sought hers.

"Really?" Belle asked softly as she gazed up into Erik's eyes.

"Yes, Belle, and if that man somehow manages to find you...rest assured that I will deal with him. He will never touch you. He will never again lay a hand on you. I will make sure of that." He sighed and lightly rested his forehead against Belle's. "It won't be my first time eliminating a threat."

"Eliminating a threat?" Belle's voice was soft.

Erik sighed and averted his gaze. "I have blood on my hands, Belle. I have killed many people...many times with my own bare hands. These hands which are so reverent and tender when touching and caressing you...were once so very cold and lethal. They killed with such ease and skill..."

Belle's eyes were wide. "Why?" she asked softly. "Why would you do that?" Erik...her sweet, gentle Erik was a murderer?

"Self-preservation," Erik said softly. "My first kill was my keeper in the gypsy freak show. He had just finished beating me in front of a crowd before ripping my mask from my face for all of them to see. The beating he gave me that night was the last of his life before I strangled him with a length of rope." He sighed softly. "Like you with your adoptive father, I could no longer endure his brutal treatment...or being kept in a cage and treated worse than a dog." Erik's body trembled as he relived the childhood memories he had kept so deeply buried in the recesses of his mind for so long. "So I took matters into my own hands. I was ten years old..."

"Oh, Erik..." Belle's voice was so very gentle as she caressed his face.

"There were many others after that," Erik admitted softly. "All through my travels through Europe, I killed to protect my dignity." He sighed. "The world was my school...I learned everything I know during my travels...accumulating knowledge and building up my talents. During my years in Persia, it was only my talents that kept me from enduring the same fate in my childhood. I had many duties for the shah...court magician...architect..." He sighed. "And executioner. If I did not perform my duties...all of them...then I would have been put to death." He kept his eyes averted--terrified of looking Belle in the face. "When I escaped and fled back to Paris, I made my home in the catacombs of the Paris opera house, and I killed any and all who ventured into my domain...for I knew that should I be exposed, I would be put on display again...and I could not allow that to happen. Do you understand, Belle?" Erik hesitantly lifted his gaze to his beloved's face.

Belle lowered her gaze as she processed everything Erik had just told her. Her Erik was a murderer. He had just admitted it to her. He had the blood of many on his hands...but considering what he had endured from the moment of his birth, Belle wondered if Erik had any choice in the matter. Yes, she herself had suffered at the hands of a cruel man...but at least she had the love of her deceased parents to hold onto...to cleave to in her moments of darkness. The memory of her parents' love had fed her hope. But what had Erik had? What had Erik to cleave to whilst he was being beaten like a stray dog and being shunned and ridiculed by the world?

Nothing.

"You think me a monster," Erik said softly, his voice filled with sorrow.

"No," Belle answered softly as she slowly raised her gaze back to Erik's. "You did what you had to do in order to survive...but that doesn't make you a monster, Erik." She caressed his face with loving and tender hands "When I think of everything you've had to endure...all the suffering, and all because of this..." She kissed the disfigured half of Erik's face with infinite tenderness. "...my heart breaks." Her bottom lip trembled as tears welled up in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

"Belle..." Erik's voice was soft with awe. Belle was weeping for him. He had confessed his sins to her, and she was weeping for him. His angel was weeping for him! He could not stop the tears from rolling down his own cheeks.

"So much was taken from you...a mother's love, a loving home, a normal childhood...your innocence to blood...had not all that been taken from you..." She cupped Erik's face in her hands and rested her forehead against his as she gently wiped away his tears with the pads of her thumbs. "What kind of life have you known, my love? Alone without anyone to turn to...not even having any happy memories to cleave to in your hours of darkness, and having only known hate and cruelty...is it any wonder that you did what you did?" She pressed a series of gentle kisses to the disfigured half of Erik's face before pressing her lips against his. "I only hope that I can provide you with enough happy memories to keep you from feeling so alone and empty..."

Erik cupped Belle's face in his hands and gazed into her eyes. "You have...you are." He kissed her tenderly before lightly kissing away her tears. "Every smile...every touch, every kiss...every moment you spend in my arms or by my side...all those memories fill me with such warmth and happiness." Erik kissed his beloved's lips slowly...deeply. "Belle...my dear, sweet, precious angel...I will love you the rest of my life, and I will spend the rest of my days worshipping you and the very ground you walk upon."

Belle smiled sweetly and brushed her lips against Erik's lips. "I love you, Erik," she murmured. "And I will spend the rest of my life showing you that." She slowly slid her hands up into Erik's dark hair. "You'll never be alone again, Erik," she murmured against his lips before kissing them slowly and tenderly. "I promise you."

* * *

**A/N:**Here's the translation of the recitative and aria from 'Le Nozze di Figaro' (The Marriage of Figaro) by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart...

The moment finally arrives  
When I'll enjoy [experience joy] without haste  
In the arms of my beloved...  
Fearful anxieties, get out of my heart!  
Do not come to disturb my delight.  
Oh, how it seems that to amorous fires  
The comfort of the place,  
Earth and heaven respond,  
[Oh, it seems that earth, heaven and this place  
answerer my heart's amorous fire.]  
As the night responds to my ruses.

Oh, come, don't be late, my beautiful joy  
Come where love calls you to enjoyment  
Until night's torches no longer shine in the sky  
As long as the air is still dark  
And the world quiet.  
Here the river murmurs and the light plays  
That restores the heart with sweet ripples  
Here, little flowers laugh and the grass is fresh  
Here, everything entices one to love's pleasures  
Come, my dear, among these hidden plants.  
Come, come!  
I want to crown you with roses.


	16. Chapter 16

Please review! I love hearing from my readers! I live for reviews, and I do in fact allow anonymous reviews, so don't be shy! If you have reviewed, I heartily thank you! Please note that while I welcome constructive criticism, all flamers will be strung up with the Punjab lasso! Sorry for the delay, but writer's block is a cruel and heartless bitch... -,-

**Warning:**Brief sexual content...there, you've been warned, lol ;-p

**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'Phantom of the Opera' (any of the renditions) or any of the cannon characters...unfortunately...(God, I wish I owned Erik!) I'm not making any money from this, I'm just writing this for fun. I do however own Annabelle and any other OCs you may find in the story.

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen**

* * *

Belle awoke with a start and a small gasp--sitting bolt upright in bed. Her hand flew to her heart as she tried to calm its frantic pounding, and she took several deep breaths to try and calm herself.

"Belle?" Erik asked--his voice heavy with sleep as he sat up. "Belle, what is it? What's the matter?"

Belle leaned into Erik's body as he wrapped his arms around her--trying to draw upon the warm protection of his embrace. They had not slept apart since the night Erik had proposed to her, and at this particular moment, Belle could not have been more glad of that. "I had a nightmare," she whispered softly. "It was...it was him." Her body began trembling in fear. "He was...he was..."

"Sssshh..." Erik said soothingly as he cradled Belle to him and gently rocked her back and forth. "It's all right, ma petite ange. It was only a dream...it cannot hurt you."

"He had taken me away..." Tears formed in Belle's eyes and she buried her face in Erik's neck.

"He will never touch you, my love," Erik said firmly. "He will never touch you again.

"I cried for you...but you never came." Belle clung to Erik desperately. "You couldn't find me. I knew yu were looking for me...I could hear you calling for me...but you couldn't find me." The entirety of her delicate frame trembled. "I cried and cried for you...but you couldn't find me."

"I will always come for you," Erik said vehemently. "I will always find you, I promise. I swear it on my life." He stoked Belle's hair as he nuzzled the top of your head. "Do not let your dream disturb you, my precious angel. You are safe here."

Smiling softly, Belle lightly nuzzled Erik's neck. "Especially when I have you to protect me, my love," she said softly before lightly kissing the pulse in Erik's neck.

Shivering in delight at the feel of Belle's soft lips upon his neck, Erik smiled at his beloved's words and kissed the top of Belle's head before gently tilting her face up and claiming her soft lips in a long, slow kiss. "So long as I am with you, nothing will ever harm you, my precious love." He kissed her again, a little deeper this time as he gently tangle a hand into her golden hair. "I love you," he murmured against Belle's lips before kissing her again. "I love you so much, my sweet Belle."

Belle relaxed in the safety that only Erik's arms could provide, and smiled up at her beloved as her hands tenderly cupped his face--her eyes filled with an unconditional love. "And I love you so very dearly, my beautiful Erik."

Erik's smile grew and he laid back down--gently bringing Belle down with him and nestling her close. "Get some sleep now, ma petite amour. You have a fitting for your wedding dress tomorrow."

Belle smiled and lightly nuzzled Erik's neck as she snuggled against him--her nightmare completely forgotten. "Yes...and you have to promise you won't be there."

"And why would I promise such a thing?" Erik asked playfully as he nuzzled Belle's hair.

"Because it's bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her wedding dress before they're married," Belle answered.

Erik chuckled softly. "Ah, but that only applied if you are superstitious, and I, my lovely bride to be, am not a superstitious person."

Belle pouted.

Erik grinned playfully and lightly tickled Belle's sides to let her know he was teasing. Oh, how Erik loved to tease her! How could he resist when she looked so adorable when she formed those deliciously kissable lips into such an adorable pout? "Is it really that important to you, my love?" he asked as he gently tilted Belle's face up to his and gazed into her eyes.

"Of course it is, Erik," Belle answered--still giggling a little from when Erik had tickled her. "I want you to be awestruck when you see me on our wedding day."

Erik smiled and claimed Belle's lips in a slow, tender kiss. "I will be awestruck no matter what, my lovely angel," he murmured as he gazed into Belle's eyes. "Even now, I am awestruck as I look at you, for I still cannot believe that you...such a sweet, beautiful and perfect woman are in fact mine."

"Oh, Erik..." Belle murmured softly before pressing a loving kiss to her beloved's lips. "Believe it, my love. I am yours...yours and yours alone until the end of time, Erik. I belong to you, Erik...mind, body and soul." She tenderly cupped Erik's face in her palms. "Everything that I am is yours and will always be yours, my love."

There were no words to describe the joy Erik felt, so he simply held Belle close and buried his face in her hair. He deeply breathed in her scent and simply reveled in the feel of her warm, feminine body pressed so trustingly against his own. For the first time in his life, Erik had everything he had ever wanted...everything he had ever dreamed of.

It was perfect.

"I do hope you like how I look in my dress," Belle said sleepily as she allowed her head to be pillowd upon Erik's shoulder once more--her eyes drifting closed as sleep began to overtake her once again.

"You will be the most beautiful bride who ever lived," Erik murmured with a smile against Belle's hair before brushing a tender kiss to her forehead. "Even more so, because you will be mine and mine alone." His smile only grew as he uttered those words, and he stayed awake only a few moments more--blissfully meditating on the truth of his words before finally following his beloved into the land of dreams.

* * *

_...Hours later; in town..._

"And you are certain that the dress will be ready in time?"

"I give you my word that it will be, Monsieur Dessler," the shopkeeper said with a small bow of her head. "I will make it my top priority."

"Good," Erik said with a nod as he held out his arm for Belle to take--gently patting that small delicate hand once it was in the crook of his arm. "Do as you promise, and you shall be well compensated."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Good day," Erik said with a nod before turning on his heel and leading Belle out of the shop.

"Thank you so much for keeping your promise and staying away during my fitting," Belle said with a smile as she looked up at Erik.

Erik smiled down at Belle and placed his free hand over the small, gloved hand in his arm. "I will never break a promise to you, me petite ange," he said as he helped his beloved into the carriage and closed the door upon climbing in after her. "Home, Smith."

"Aye, monsieur."

Smiling, Erik sighed contentedly when Belle drew close and nestled against him, and he slid an arm around her shoulders to keep her there. He brushed a kiss to his beloved's forehead before speaking. "Are you certain you do not wish to go anywhere after we are married? There's still time to make travel arrangements should you decide you want a honeymoon after all."

Belle gave a small shake of her head. "I'm sure." She smiled up at Erik before demurely lowering her gaze--a soft bush coloring her cheeks. "Besides...I would much rather spend the entirety of my honeymoon in bed with you...that would sort of defeat the purpose of visiting someplace new and exciting, wouldn't it?"

It felt as thought a bolt of lightning had shot down through Erik's groin, and he actually groaned softly with the ache building there. It did not matter how much time passed...would ever pass, the fact that a woman as beautiful as his precious Belle desired him the way he desired her would never be something Erik would take for granted. "Oh, Belle..." There was a huskiness to his voice, and she smiled lazily down at his beloved as he tilted her face up to his. "You little vixen..."

Though Belle's blush deepened, she smiled up at Erik. "Do you object, my love?"

"Not at all, my precious," Erik answered with a smile before claiming Belle's lips in a deep, slow, searching kiss. "But alas, I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage..." he murmured against his lover's lips.

"How do you mean?" Belle asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

Still smiling, Erik took one of Belle's hands in his and gently placed it over his groin--allowing her to feel the hard evidence of his arousal.

"Oh, my..." Belle breathed.

Erik's smile grew as he drew close to Belle's ear nuzzling it sensually. "Do you see what you do to me, my love?" he murmured softly before nibbling Belle's earlobe.

Shivers ran through Belle's spine and her eyes fluttered closed for a few moments. "Dear me," she said softly as her hand began caressing Erik's length through his trousers. "Whatever shall I do with you?"

Erik groaned and leaned back in his seat--his eyes fluttering closed in pleasure. "Mon dieu..."

"Did you want me to stop?" Belle asked innocently. She could feel how hard Erik was, and it excited her.

Erik forced his eyes open and glanced outside the window--seeing that they were pulling up to the manor. "Yes...you must stop now." He gently but firmly gripped Belle's arms as he hungrily kissed her lips. "But only so you can get upstairs to my bedroom so I can ravish you for hours on end until neither of us can move." There was an aroused growl to his voice as he smiled at his young lover.

Belle's body reacted immediately--warmth pooling between her legs. "Well, then..." she replied in a voice barely above a whisper. "I'd best be getting upstairs then..."

Erik growled low in his throat. "Yes...you should."

The carriage had barely stopped before Erik had all but leapt out with Belle in his arms. Lowering her to her feet, gently took a hold of her arm and quickly ushered her inside...

Only to be stopped by Mrs. Pierce before they could head up the stairs.

"Monsieur Dessler, there's a gentleman waiting for you in your office."

Erik blinked. "Well...send him away. Tell him I am very busy. I am in fact rather busy." He began to maneuver Belle around the housekeeper, but Mrs. Pierce was not to be ignored.

"I already tried that, monsieur but he won't leave. He has been waiting for you for almost two hours, and keeps saying that he will not leave until he has spoken to you."

Erik sighed. "Did he say what he wanted to speak to me about?" Perhaps he could send Belle upstairs, deal quickly with the man and race up to his room and lock the door--leaving Belle and himself to their own devices for hours.

"Yes..." Mrs. Pierce looked back and forth between Belle and Erik. "He said that you have his daughter."


	17. Chapter 17

Please review! I love hearing from my readers! I live for reviews, and I do in fact allow anonymous reviews, so don't be shy! If you have reviewed, I heartily thank you! Please note that while I welcome constructive criticism, all flamers will be strung up with the Punjab lasso!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'Phantom of the Opera' (any of the renditions) or any of the cannon characters...unfortunately...(God, I wish I owned Erik!) I'm not making any money from this, I'm just writing this for fun. I do however own Annabelle and any other OCs you may find in the story.

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen**

* * *

The moment Mrs. Pierce had uttered her last sentence, all the color visibly drained from Belle's face and the desire she was feeling mere moments ago vanished like a shadow in the light. She looked to Erik with a face that was drawn in panic.

"E...Erik...! He...he...he found me...!" She began to hyperventilate. "Oh, God...oh, God...he f...f...found me!" She clung to Erik desperately. "He...he's...going to...ta...take me away...!"

Erik gripped Belle's shoulders and gazed into her eyes. Any and all desire he had felt mere moments before had completely disappeared and was replaced with the burning urge to protect the woman he loved. "Belle...Belle listen to me. Calm down. Nothing is going to happen. He will not take you away, I give you my word. Calm down now."

Belle's eyes widened in panic as her breathing became labored. "I...can't...can't...I can't...breathe...!" Moments later, her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she crumpled limply only to be gathered into Erik's arms and rushed up the stairs.

"What did you tell him?" Erik all but snarled at the housekeeper--knowing that she was on his heels as he hurried up he stairs and to Belle's bedroom.

"Nothing, sir," Mrs. Pierce answered as she opened the door to Belle's bedroom and held it open for Erik. "I didn't like the look of him. He made me uneasy, so I made no mention of Miss Warren."

Erik breathed a small sigh of relief as he gently laid Belle down on the bed. Finding her shallow breathing too discomforting for his tastes, he unbuttoned her blouse before loosening the strings on her corset. Once he was satisfied with the now easy breathing of his beloved, Erik carefully covered her with an afghan before gently brushing some hair away from her forehead. "Thank you for that, Madame Pierce."

Mrs. Pierce nodded. "Think nothing of it, monsieur." She was silent for a few moments before clearing her throat. "If I am allowed to ask, monsieur...who is he? Is he really Miss Warren's father?"

Erik was silent for a few moments before turning his gaze to the housekeeper. "By blood, no. By law...yes, though he is not worthy of the privilege. Be assured that he is a threat to my fiance, and I shall deal with him." He smoothed his jacket. "Please stay with her until I get back."

Mrs. Pierce nodded. "As you wish, monsieur."

With a final glance to Belle's unconscious form, Erik turned on his heel and departed from the room, closing the door behind him.

* * *

_...Erik's office..._

Silently opening the door and slipping inside before silently closing it, Erik simply stood framed in the doorway as he coldly regarded the man who was currently examining the gilding on the mantle. He was a few years older than Erik was, and though he had a heavier build, he was not as tall. Though he had a finely coiffed appearance, Erik could detect the air of menace about him.

Despite his well-groomed appearance, this man was a brute. Erik could sense it...

And there was no force in Heaven or Hell that would allow him to allow this man to take Belle away from him!

It would be so simple to simply kill the man who had caused so much pain in anguish in the life of his beloved. It would be so simple to simply drag him down to the room he had personally built below the cellar of the manor and toss him into the chamber of mirrors he had built there--an exact duplicate to the ones he had used in both Persia as well as the Garnier.

Yes, it would be a simple solution to the problem...

But it would also risk everything Erik had built for himself here. His home, his career, his wealth...the very normalcy of his life would be ripped from him should anyone ever learn of this man's murder. Not only that, but he would lose Belle as well. Whether by imprisonment or execution, Erik would be ripped forcibly from Belle...and Erik could not allow that.

As much as he did not care for the idea, Erik knew the best course of action was to hand this man over to the authorities should he prove to be more troublesome than expected. He had of course instructed Mr. Smith to alert the authorities just in case the unwanted man did not leave quietly.

It was bothersome, but Erik was not willing to risk losing what he had finally been blessed with. Keeping that thought in mind, Erik drew himself up to his full height, and cleared his throat--finally making his presence known as he stared the man down.

Turning with a small start, the man regarded Erik before finally speaking. "Are you the master of this house?"

"I am," Erik answered simply. "And you are?"

"Reginald Thomas," he said with a smile that did not quite reach his eyes as he moved across the room and held a hand out for Erik to shake.

Erik simply glanced at Reginald's hand before returning his cold, disdainful gaze back to his face and crossing his arms over his chest. "My housekeeper tells me that you refuse to leave. What manner of business is so pressing as to prevent you from realizing that you are not welcome here?"

Reginald dropped his hand, and his eyes narrowed just a bit. "I have it on good authority that you have my daughter here."

"Really?" Erik asked with a slightly raised eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Yes..." Reginald said with a nod as he drew a gold pocket watch from the pocket of his vest and opened it--revealing the photograph of Belle on the side opposite the watch face. "Pretty little thing...Annabelle Thomas is her name. She is rather spoiled, I am ashamed to say, and she ran away from home because things were not going her way. I wish to have her returned to me."

"Annabelle Thomas, you say?" Erik gave a small shake of his head after having pretended to pause in thought. Though outwardly he looked passive enough, inwardly he was roaring with rage at Reginald's description of what had happened, especially when he saw the underlying helplessness and fear in Belle's eyes as she gazed out at him from the photograph. "No, I am afraid there is no person of such name here either in residence or on my staff."

Erik moved just enough so he could open the door. "If that is all, I would thank you to leave now. I am a very busy man and have a great many matters which require my attention at present."

"No one by that name is here?"

"Most certainly not," Erik answered.

"What about Annabelle Warren?" Reginald asked. "She sometimes calls herself by that name."

"No," Erik said with a shake of his head. "There is no Annabelle within these walls."

"And you don't recognize this girl?"

"Not at all."

Both men remained where they were--neither giving any ground and both refusing to back down.

"Then why was I directed to this manor when I showed this picture around the town?" Reginald asked--a dangerous gleam entering his eye as the corners of his mouth turned up in a cruel smile.

Erik met Reginald's gaze head on--matching it with a dangerous glare of his own. "This Annabelle you speak is is neither the only beautiful blond girl in the world, monsieur. They are as you Americans say...a dime a dozen. One looks just the same as the next." It pained Erik to speak of Belle in that way. It was certainly not the way he viewed her, but he was not about to admit that she was in fact in the manor. "No doubt you were misinformed."

"I know she's here," Reginald said lowly after glaring long and hard at Erik. "I can smell her perfume on you, you masked freak." He took a step closer to Erik. "You've plucked her, haven't you? Tell me...was she as delicious as I thought she would be?" he asked with a leer. "Did you leave your mask on or did you force her to look upon whatever it is you're hiding?"

There was an angry buzzing inside Erik's head, and it was all he could do to not lash out and snap Reginald's neck. Instead, he took a deep breath and let it out very slowly. "You, monsieur have long-since worn out your welcome," he said icily--completely avoiding answering Reginald's questions. "Leave my home now or I shall have your forcibly removed...whether by me personally or the authorities remains to be seen, but one way or another you will leave my home. You can be certain of that."

"This isn't over," Reginald hissed as he took a step closer. "You can't keep her from me forever." Reginald never saw Erik move before he hand a set of long, strong fingers wrapped around his throat.

True to his word, Erik forcibly dragged Reginald out of his office and through the manor--not stopping until he had reached the dual front doors whereby he unceremoniously threw him out like garbage. "That is where you are wrong, monsieur. "We are indeed finished with this discussion. I am done with you."

Erik narrowed his eyes into dangerous slits. "Rest assured, monsieur that if you come near either me, my home or any of its residents again, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur."

* * *

_...Belle's room..._

Mrs. Pierce sighed softly as she watched Belle sleep. Despite her worry for the girl, she could not help the small smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth when she took in the sight of Tatiana curled up and sleeping on Belle's stomach. "The poor girl," she mused softly. "Even the cat is worried for her."

She looked to the door as it swung open to reveal Erik as he entered the room. "I'm afraid she still hasn't regained consciousness, monsieur."

Erik sighed softly as he made his way to his beloved's bed and sat beside her. "She will be fine once the shock brought about by her fear wears off," he said. "Thank you for staying with her."

"It's nothing, monsieur," the housekeeper answered. "So that man is gone?"

"Oui," Erik said with a small nod of his head as he tenderly caressed Belle's cheek with the backs of his knuckles. "Madame Pierce...under no circumstances is that man to be allowed into the manor again, is that clear?"

"Yes, Monsieur Dessler."

"If he comes by again, you are to send for the police immediately, do you understand?"

"Perfectly, monsieur."

"Inform the rest of the staff in this."

"Consider it done, monsieur. Shall I have some tea sent up?"

"Not just yet," Erik answered. "I will ring once ma petite ange awakens...and even then, I believe at this present time she would enjoy hot chocolate more than she would enjoy tea."

"Very well, monsieur," Mrs. Pierce said with a small bow of her head. "I will have everything ready." With that, she turned and left the room with a swish of her skirt--closing the door behind her.

Alone now, Erik removed his jacket, vest and shoes before climbing into bed and settling beside Belle. He gently stroked Tatiana's fur before gently lifting her and placing her at the foot of the bed. "Forgive me," he said with a small smile in response to her soft, yet annoyed meow. "I thank you for guarding her, but now it is my turn."

That taken care of, Erik laid down beside Belle and wrapped his arms around--cradling her protectively to him. "You are safe now, my love," he murmured soothingly as he slowly rocked his beloved back and forth. "I will always keep you safe. I swear it on my life."

Erik pressed a tender kiss to Belle's lips and was immediately rewarded with a soft, content sigh before those soft lips opened to him. Accepting the invitation, Erik allowed his tongue slip into the warmth of Belle's mouth--brushing against his lover's tongue in a languid caress. He answered Belle's soft whimper with an aroused groan. Upon slowly breaking the kiss, he smiled softly when Belle slowly opened her eyes and smiled at him.

"Well...that was a new experience," Belle said with the smallest of giggles as she smiled.

Erik blinked in slight confusion. "What was?"

"My fainting after you kissed me," Belle answered with a soft blush. "Don't misunderstand me, your kisses always leave me lightheaded, but never like this," she said with a smile and a soft giggle.

Erik drew his brows together in slight puzzlement. "Just...what do you remember?" Erik asked carefully.

Belle gently stroked Tatiana's fur when the cat padded up from the foot of the bed and curled up against her side. "I remember you kissing me in the carriage while we were on our way home from my dress fitting," Belle answered with a smile. "And then I woke up here and now. Why?" She asked as she gazed up at Erik with a quizzical expression. "Am I forgetting something?"

Erik smiled gently as he gave a small shake of his head. "No, my angel...you are not forgetting anything." Belle had obviously blocked the entire incident with her adoptive father from her mind and replaced it with something more pleasant. Erik could not fault her for that. How could he? It was a natural human response. He also could not bring himself to make her remember the truth behind her fainting. "It happened just as you said," he said before claiming Belle's lips in a deep, slow kiss.

Belle was only too happy to kiss Erik back--her little hands gently tangling into his dark hair. "I love you, Erik," she whispered with a smile and eyes filled with love.

Erik gently rested his forehead against Belle's. "And I love you, Belle...more than the air I breathe." He lightly kissed his beloved's eyelids before kissing the tip of her nose. "I have it on good authority that there is hot chocolate to be had when you are ready for it," he said with a conspiring wink.

Belle's face lit up with a child-like delight. "Really?"

"Oui, ma petite ange," Erik said with a smile and a nod. "Would you care for some now?"

"Oh, yes Erik, please," Belle answered with a smile.

"Very well," Erik said with a small chuckle as he reached over and tugged on the bell rope before snuggling back down with Belle. "Perhaps later, when you are feeling more recovered, you will sing for me?"

Belle sighed contentedly--a happy smile playing on her lips as she pillowed her head on Erik's shoulder. "I would love to." She lightly kissed Erik's jaw. "I love singing for you, Erik...almost as much as I love you."

Erik smiled and gently tilted Belle's face up to his before kissing her lips tenderly. "And I love you, Belle...more than music...more than my very life, and I will protect you with my dying breath."


	18. Chapter 18

Please review! I love hearing from my readers! I live for reviews, and I do in fact allow anonymous reviews, so don't be shy! If you have reviewed, I heartily thank you! Please note that while I welcome constructive criticism, all flamers will be strung up with the Punjab lasso! Sorry for the delay, but real life kept getting in the way... -,-

**Warning:**Sexual content...there, you've been warned, lol ;-p

**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'Phantom of the Opera' (any of the renditions) or any of the cannon characters...unfortunately...(God, I wish I owned Erik!) I'm not making any money from this, I'm just writing this for fun. I do however own Annabelle and any other OCs you may find in the story.

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen**

* * *

_...Two nights later..._

"Thank you for having us over, Dessler," Leland Stanford said as he sat back in his chair.

"Not at all, monsieur," Erik said with a smile as he sipped his wine from his seat at the head of the table. "You and your wife have had my lovely fiance over enough. It was time we returned the favor," he said with an affectionate smile as he looked to Belle who was seated on his right.

"Dinner was excellent," Mrs. Stanford said with a smile as she dabbed her mouth with her napkin.

"I shall be sure to tell the cook, ma'am," Mrs. Pierce said as she and the maid cleared the dishes from the table. "She'll be pleased you enjoyed it."

"So, Dessler, Leland here tells me the two of you are embarking on a project together."

"Oui, Monsieur Roberts," Erik said in response to the portly man. "We are to build and run an opera house."

"Well, Dessler is going to do the majority of the running," Mr. Stanford said with a smile. "I know very little about the workings of an opera house, so I am determined to stick to what I do know...handling money," he said with a chuckle.

"Well, an opera house should certainly add more sophistication to our fair city," Mr. Roberts said with a smile.

"That's exactly what I thought," Mr. Stanford said with a nod. "And since Dessler here is the best architect I've seen in all my years, I thought who better to build it?" He smiled as he sipped his wine. "And as it turns out, Dessler here has been hiding some of his other talents under a bushel. For example, Paul, did you know that he's quite an accomplished musician?"

"I had no idea," Mr. Roberts answered with a small shake of his head.

"Oh, will you play for us later, Monsieur Dessler?" Mrs. Roberts asked.

"Oh, yes, please do," Mrs. Stanford asked.

"Perhaps," Erik said with a small smile.

"Oh, Belle dear, you must convince him to do so," Mrs. Roberts pleaded as she looked to Belle from across the table.

"I must?" Belle? asked as she blinked curiously.

"Oh, yes, for surely he'll listen to you."

"Well, I..."

"Yes, surely you can convince him to say yes," Mrs. Stanford said with a conspiring smile as she lightly rested a hand on Belle's forearm.

Erik watched the entire scene with amusement, and when Belle looked to him with a mixture of uncertainty and shyness, it was all he could not to snuggle and kiss her in front of their guests. She was simply too adorable! "Yes, ma petite cherie?" he asked with a playful glint in his eyes as he tried desperately not to laugh. "Do you wish to ask me something?"

"Well..." Belle smiled shyly. "Would you play for us, my love?"

"Does my diva command it?" Erik asked with a playfully raised eyebrow. He was in exceptionally good spirits that night. It had been two days since the appearance of Reginald, and Erik had neither heard nor seen him since.

No doubt the man had taken Erik's threat seriously and had departed.

"Oh, that's right, Dessler," Mr. Stanford said with a snap of his fingers. "Your lovely Belle is to be our opera's prima donna. Well, you have to play for us now so we can hear the lovely voice you have been bragging about," he said with a smile.

Belle felt her cheeks warm as they became colored with her blush. "Have you been bragging about me, my love?"

"Yes, I am afraid that I am guilty of being prideful of your talents, ma cherie," Erik said with a smile. "Very well," he said as he pushed his chair back and stood. "For the sake of proving my words, ma petite Belle and I shall indulge you all." He looked down to Belle. "You do not mind do you?"

Belle found herself smiling. "Not at all, my love. Your honor must be defended, after all," she said with a playful wink.

Erik grinned and chuckled as he offered Belle his hand and helped her to her feet. "Indeed it must." He turned his attention to his guests. "If you will all please follow me into the music room, we shall give you a small taste of what to expect from our lovely diva for many seasons to come."

With that, Erik turned, placed Belle's little hand in the crook of his arm and led the procession to the music room. Once inside, he led Belle to the piano and took his seat upon the bench.

"Oh, my what a lovely room," Mrs. Stanford said upon entering with her husband.

"Thank you, madame," Erik said with a small bow of his head. "If you will all please take your seats, we shall begin." He waited until everyone was seated before turning his gaze to Belle and smiling before giving her a small nod. He knew Belle would still be warmed up from their session that afternoon, and so he left her to choose the aria.

Returning Erik's smile, Belle took a deep breath and turned to face her audience before allowing her voice to soar...

"Ah! je ris de me voir  
si belle en ce miroir,  
Ah! je ris de me voir  
si belle en ce miroir,  
Est-ce toi, Marguerite, est-ce toi?  
Réponds-moi, réponds-moi,  
Réponds, réponds, réponds vite!  
Non! Non! ce n'est plus toi!  
Non...non, ce n'est plus ton visage;  
C'est la fille d'un roi;  
C'est la fille d'un roi,  
Ce n'est plus toi,  
Ce n'est plus toi,  
Qu'on salut au passage!  
Ah s'il était ici!  
S'il me voyait ainsi!  
Comme une demoiselle  
Il me trouverait belle, Ah!  
Comme une demoiselle,  
Il me trouverait belle!  
Comme une demoiselle,  
Il me trouverait belle!  
Achevons la métamorphose,  
Il me tarde encor d'essayer  
Le bracelet it le collier!  
Dieu! c'est comme une main,  
Qui sur mon bras se pose! ah! ah!  
Ah! je ris de me voir  
si belle en ce miroir,  
Ah! je ris de me voir  
si belle en ce miroir,  
Est-ce toi, Marguerite, est-ce toi?  
Réponds-moi, réponds-moi,  
Réponds, réponds, réponds vite!  
Ah s'il était ici!  
S'il me voyait ainsi!  
Comme une demoiselle  
Il me trouverait belle, Ah!  
Comme une demoiselle,  
Il me trouverait belle!  
Comme une demoiselle,  
Il me trouverait belle!  
Marguerite, ce n'est plus toi.  
Ce n'est plus ton visage  
Non!  
C'est la fille d'un roi!  
Qu'on salut au passage!"

Belle had just barely finished singing when her audience, small though it was, erupted in a thunderous applause. Though she blushed from the attention, Belle could neither stop the smile from spreading over her lovely face nor the swell of pride from growing within her.

"Did I not tell you that I found a perfect prima donna?" Erik asked proudly as he stood beside Belle, took her hand in his own and raised it to his lips--brushing a soft kiss to her knuckles.

"You did indeed, Dessler," Mr. Stanford said with a wide smile. "Brava, Miss Warren. Brava!"

"Encore!" Mrs. Stanford pleaded.

"Yes, please! Encore!" Mrs. Roberts seconded.

Smiling shyly, Belle giggled as she turned her face to Erik. "My maestro?"

"If my diva commands it," Erik replied with a smile as he gazed longfully into Belle's eyes--his thumb brushing over Belle's knuckles with a feather light caress. "Then we shall play on."

Bella's smile grew a fraction of an inch as she gazed back into Erik's warm, honey-colored pools. "I command it," she whispered softly.

His smile never leaving his lips, Erik gave a small bow of his head before slowly releasing Belle's hand and resuming his seat on the piano bench. "Then it shall be so."

* * *

_...Belle's bedroom; a few hours later..._

Dressed in her dressing gown, a soft smiled played upon Belle's lips as she sat before her dressing table and brushed out her long, golden tresses. As the memories of that evening played pleasantly through her mind, she could not stop herself from softly humming Beethoven's 'Ode to Joy'.

She was however awakened from her reverie upon hearing a knock at the door. "Come in," she called out softly--her smile never once leaving her face. Her smile only grew when she saw Erik's reflection appear in her mirror. "Hello, my love."

Erik smiled and closed the door behind him. "Did I not tell you that you would be the toast of the city?" he asked as he came to stand behind Belle--gently resting his hands on her shoulders as he leaned down and tenderly kissed her temple.

"Yes you did, my darling," Belle answered as she leaned into Erik's kiss and placed her hands over his.

"And just to think that soon you will be my bride," Erik said as he gently pulled Belle to her feet and turned her so she was facing him. "My wife..." He tenderly kissed Belle's forehead before reverently kissing her lips as he held her close.

"And the mother of your children," Belle added softly with a smile before kissing Erik's jaw and lightly nuzzling it.

Small shivers of delight coursed through Erik's body and his arms tightened around Belle's petite frame. "Yes," he murmured with a smile that only grew as he imagined his beautiful beloved heavy with his child. It was something Erik never once thought he would ever be fortunate enough to have, and yet it was all there in his very grasp. "Would you like me to make love to you, my angel?" Erik murmured softly into Belle's ear before nuzzling it. The urge for him to take her was overpowering, but not simply to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh...but to show Belle just how much he loved and adored her by worshipping her with his body.

From the moment of having dealt with the man responsible for all the years of torment Belle had to endure, Erik had wanted more than anything to remind his beloved that she would know and experience nothing but love, adoration and pleasure from him. It had become an almost desperate need that Erik could not ignore, and Erik had indulged in it every opportunity he got.

Belle shuddered and a familiar ache formed deep in her abdomen as warmth pooled between her legs. "Yes, Erik," she murmured into his ear. "Make love to me...make yours again."

Erik raised his head and gazed down into Belle's eyes. "Until neither of us can move?" he asked with a smile as he began removing Belle's clothing--his hands reverently caressing his beloved's silken skin as it became exposed to him.

Belle smiled up at Erik--her eyes dark with desire as she unfastened Erik's robe before pushing it down from his shoulders. Her body ached desperately for his, and the ache only intensified as the last item of her own clothing was removed and she was left standing naked in front of Erik. "Yes, my love..." she whispered as she removed Erik's mask. "Until neither of us can move."

Erik smiled and quickly removed the last of his clothing before lifting Belle into his arms and carrying her to the bed. Laying her down on the bed, Erik positioned himself over her, and his smile only grew when Belle shuddered upon feeling his hard length brush against her inner thigh as she spread her legs for him. He drank in the beauty of his beloved's naked and willing form before burying himself to the hilt inside of her--groaning in unadulterated pleasure once he was encased within her tight warmth. "I love you," he murmured against Belle's lips before capturing them in a deep kiss as he began moving within her with long, deep thrusts. "You are my world." He kissed her again. "You are my life...I was dead before I met you."

A single, blissful tear rolled down Belle's cheek and she gazed lovingly into Erik's eyes as she wrapped her arms and legs around him and arched her back in pleasure as her hips moved in time with Erik's thrusts. "My love...my protector...my soul..." She kissed Erik as her hands lovingly caressed his face. "Everything that I am is yours forever." Her eyes fluttered closed and she lightly bit her lower lip as she whimpered in pleasure.

Smiling...the sounds of Belle's pleasured whimpers music to his ears, Erik raised Belle's hips as he pressed her close. Reveling in the feel of his beloved's skin against his own and how her soft breasts pressed against his chest, Erik kissed Belle hungrily as his thrusts became harder and faster--not stopping until he felt Belle's body shudder in release as her cry was swallowed by their kiss. Only then did Erik allow himself to follow her into blessed oblivion--shuddering hard as he spilled his seed into her waiting womb.

Once he had been milked completely, Erik's thrusts slowed and then finally stopped. Shifting so his elbows took his weight, he simply rested his forehead against Belle's as he remained inside of her--reveling in the feel of their union as the both of them basked in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

"Oh, Belle...how I love you," he breathed softly before tenderly kissing Belle's lips.

Belle sighed softly into the kiss as her hands lovingly caressed Erik's face before moving down his neck and to his shoulders. "And how I love you, Erik," she said with a smile before shuddering a little in delight as she felt Erik grow hard inside of her once more.

Smiling, Erik began rocking his hips in a slow, lazy rhythm. "I will never have enough of you, Belle...even if I lived an eternity. I will always crave you."

Belle moaned softly in pleasure as she slowly caressed her hands over Erik's back. "And I will never tire of being craved by you, Erik...even if I lived an eternity."

* * *

_...Hours later..._

Erik awoke--instantly alert in the darkness of the room. Despite the soft and even breathing of Belle as she slept so trustingly nestled against him, Erik knew something was wrong.

Tuning out the soothing sound of Belle's breathing, Erik allowed his keen hearing to become attuned to everything else. It was then that he heard the sound of movement coming from his bedroom. He knew it was none of the servants...her recognized the individual sounds of their footfalls, and it was much too large to be Tatiana. Besides...the elegant feline was currently curled up at the foot of the bed.

Someone had broken into his room!

Swiftly, but carefully so as not to awaken Belle, Erik slipped out of bed and hurriedly slipped into his robe before silently slipping from the room and closing the door behind him. Silently opening his bedroom door, he stepped inside just in time to catch sight of none other than Reginald creeping over to the bed. No doubt the brute had thought he had slipped into the girl's room with thoughts of abducting her.

Suppressing the snarl of rage that threatened to spill from his throat, Erik was a swirl of shadows as he moved silently so he was standing behind Reginald. "Looking for something in particular, monsieur?" he hissed in the man's ear before closing a hand over his throat--stopping any cries or shouts before they could even be formed.

"I warned you, monsieur that if you ever came near me, my home or any of its residents again that a disaster beyond your imagination would occur." Never once removing his hand from Reginald's throat, Erik turned the full blaze of his furious, unmasked face and eyes upon the man. His mouth twisted into a cruel, wicked smile. "You may rest assured, monsieur that I am indeed a man of my word."

* * *

**A/N:** The aria Belle sang is from Gounod's 'Faust', and is known generally as 'The Jewel Song' Here is the translation:

Ah, I laugh to see myself  
so beautiful in this mirror,  
Ah, I laugh to see myself  
so beautiful in this mirror,  
Is it you, Marguerite, it is you?  
Answer me, answer me,  
Respond, respond, respond quickly!  
No No! it's no longer you!  
No...no, it's no longer your face;  
It's the daughter of a king,  
One must bow to her as she passes!  
Ah if only he were here!  
If he should see me thus  
Like a lady  
He would find me so beautiful, Ah!  
Like a lady,  
He would find me beautiful!  
Lets complete the metamorphosis,  
I am late yet in trying on  
The bracelet and the necklace!  
God! it's like a hand  
Which is placed on my arm! Ah, ah!  
Ah, I laugh  
to see myself so beautiful in this mirror!  
Is it you, Marguerite, it is you?  
Answer me, answer me,  
Respond, respond, respond quickly!  
Ah if only he were here!  
If he should see me thus  
Like a lady  
He would find me so beautiful, Ah!  
Like a lady,  
He would find me beautiful!  
Marguerite this isn't you.  
This isn't your face.  
No!  
It's the daughter of a king!  
One must bow to her as she passes!


	19. Chapter 19

Please review! I love hearing from my readers! I live for reviews, and I do in fact allow anonymous reviews, so don't be shy! If you have reviewed, I heartily thank you! Please note that while I welcome constructive criticism, all flamers will be strung up with the Punjab lasso!

**Disclaimer:**I don't own 'Phantom of the Opera' (any of the renditions) or any of the cannon characters...unfortunately...(God, I wish I owned Erik!) I'm not making any money from this, I'm just writing this for fun. I do however own Annabelle and any other OCs you may find in the story.

* * *

**Chapter 19**

* * *

_...February 13th; Stanford Manor..._

"Your attention please. Everyone, your attention, please," Leland Stanford said as he stood at the head of the table and lightly tapped his spoon against his glass. He smiled and regarded his guests as they sat around the large dining table. "Now, we all of us know Erik Dessler. He is a fine and respected member of our community, but he has always been alone. Rarely have I ever seen him smile." His smile widened a little as he turned his gaze to Belle. "But that is no longer the case. Since meeting you, Miss Warren, our Erik has become a different man...a happy man, and in a matter of mere hours, he will no longer be alone. I have no doubt that you will make him a good wife and that the two of you will live long and happy lives together." He raised his glass. "To the bride and groom."

"To the bride and groom," the guests chorused happily around the table as they too raised their glasses before sipping their wine.

Seated across the table from Belle, Erik could not stop smiling as he watched her. She looked so radiant...she was positively glowing with happiness, and Erik found it impossible not to be swept away by it. Tomorrow...in a mere matter of hours, Belle would be his wife. She would be his in the eyes of God and man, and Erik wanted to roar his thanks to the Heavens for granting him his immeasurable joy after a lifetime of sorrow.

Once the toast had been made, Erik stood and cleared his throat. "Thank you madames and monsieurs for your well wishes, and thank you Monsieur Stanford for hosting this party." He lowered his gaze momentarily before raising it once more. "Everything that our gracious host said is true. I was always alone, and I seldom smiled if at all." He rested his gaze fully upon Belle and a blissful smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Because up until recently, I never had a reason to smile. But that has changed since my lovely Belle entered my life."

Erik's eyes were filled with a fathomless love as he gazed at his beloved. "Though it has been a long time in coming, I have at last found my one, true love...and for that, I am the most fortunate man in this world. If I know true happiness and contentment, it is because I know Belle. Her gentle and loving heart has shown me the good and beauty in this world that for so long I had no idea existed. So if you would all please join me in raising your glasses in a toast to my beautiful bride to be...my angel and my reason for living...the one woman for whom I would readily risk my very soul."

His smile never wavering, Erik lifted his glass as he gazed down at Belle. "To Belle."

"To Belle!"

* * *

_...Belle's room; a few hours later..._

"Sleep well, me beloved," Erik said with a smile as he tenderly kissed Belle's forehead. "Have pleasant dreams and awake well rested for tomorrow."

Belle pouted at the prospect of spending the night alone in her bed. Her body already missed and ached for Erik's! "Must we sleep separately tonight, my love?" she asked softly as she looked up beseechingly into Erik's face.

Though he smiled, it took all of Erik's self control to not crush Belle to him and take her to his bed. "Yes, ma petite ange," he murmured as he smoothed Belle's hair. "For the next time I take you to my bed, it will be with you as my wife." He gently cupped Belle's face before tenderly kissing her lips. "And I will spend the entire night making love to you and worshipping your body with my own," he murmured huskily.

Belle shuddered--her very womb aching with longing. "Oh, Erik...that seems so far away..."

Erik smiled as he all but devoured Belle with his hungry gaze. "It will be here before you know it, my love." He kissed her lips simply because he could not resist them. "Then we will not have to hide anymore. No longer will we have to sneak back into our respective rooms every morning. We can stay in each other's arms for as long as we wish..."

Shivers of delight raced through Belle's body at the thought of that. "Very well, my love," she said softly with a smile that still retained a small pout. "I will be patient."

Erik smiled and kissed Belle's lips again. "Good girl," he murmured softly before kissing them once more before he slowly pulled away. "Sleep well, ma petite, and have a night filled with pleasant dreams."

"My dreams will be filled with you," Belle said with a smile as she began to slowly close her door.

Erik's heart fluttered at his beloved's words. "And mine shall be filled with nothing but you."

* * *

_...Under the manor..._

In the dimly lit space that was only accessible by means of a secret door in the cellar, Erik leaned a hip lazily against a wall with his arms and ankles casually crossed as he peered through the small, rectangular space that was at the level of his eyes. He had silently slid that small portion of wall aside so he could gaze upon the unconscious figure of Reginald as he lay prone on the floor--his breathing rapid and shallow as he no doubt fought off a nightmare.

Erik had no trouble distinguishing the man's shape in the darkness. After all, he had spent nearly his entire life in the shadows...that made his night vision impeccable. He had no trouble at all in seeing that the small food and water dishes by the man were empty.

It was a cold, cruel smile that tugged on the corners of his mouth as he silently watched the man who had been the source of so much pain and suffering for his beloved Belle...Belle who at that very moment was asleep upstairs in her bed--blissfully unaware of what was occurring beneath the very floors of her home.

He had of course waited until he was certain Belle was asleep before journeying down into his private domain. As excited and anxious as his beloved was, Erik had no doubt that she would awaken at the slightest noise, so he had waited almost three hours in the dark quiet of his room before slowly creeping out like nothing more than a shadow and making his way down below like a demon making its descent into Hell.

"It is for you that I do this, my sweet Belle," Erik said in a voice just barely above a whisper. "You, my beloved angel...who has chosen to love a devil. This very devil who loves you with every fiber of his damned soul will exact revenge for all the harsh cruelties to which you were exposed...cruelties that a pure soul like yours should never have experienced."

With that, Erik slid a screen over the small partition as he reached out and pulled a nearby rope--instantly flooding the chamber containing Reginald with a nearly blinding light as it was reflected off the mirrors that served as the chamber's walls.

Reginald was awake in an instant--trying like mad to hide within his coat as he cried in pain as the light burned his eyes that were still sensitive from the last session of torment. "WHY?! Why are you doing this?!"

"This is your punishment, monsieur," Erik said matter of factly as he watched Reginald through the protective screen. "This is your punishment for all the pain and torment you inflicted upon Belle. For every moment you made her feel crippling fear and helplessness, I shall visit it upon you ten-fold. Why do you think I have given you just enough food and water to keep you alive since the moment I threw you in here?" Erik smiled. "It is all so I can draw out your punishment and torment for as long as possible."

"Have mercy on me! Please, I beg of you! HAVE MERCY!!"

"I am not in the habit of granting mercy, monsieur...least of all to those who do not deserve it." Erik smiled cruelly as he watched Reginald repeatedly remove and put on his jacket in his vain attempts to both protect himself from the heat and grant himself some reprieve from it. "How does it feel, monsieur? How does it feel to have no control over what is happening to you? How does it feel to have your cries for mercy fall upon deaf ears? How does it feel not to know when your last breaths will be?"

"For God's sake!!" Reginald screamed. "KILL ME!! Kill me and be done with it!"

Through the partition, Erik chuckled darkly as he watched the man struggle. He had no fear of anyone in the manor hearing any of Reginald's agonizing screams. The chamber was far enough below the surface that sounds were stifled. He was free to inflict whatever form of torment he wished upon the hapless man. "Do not mistake me, monsieur...you will die...just not at this particular time."

"WHEN?!"

Behind the screen, Erik smile was one of the purest sadism. "When I grow weary of hearing you scream."


	20. Chapter 20

Please review! I love hearing from my readers! I live for reviews, and I do in fact allow anonymous reviews, so don't be shy! If you have reviewed, I heartily thank you! Please note that while I welcome constructive criticism, all flamers will be strung up with the Punjab lasso! Sorry for the delay, but I'm going over a few different directions in which to take this story, and well...that sort of thing takes time, lol.

**Warning:** Sexual content in the middle and graphic violence near the end...there, you've been warned, lol ;-p

**Disclaimer:**I don't own 'Phantom of the Opera' (any of the renditions) or any of the cannon characters...unfortunately...(God, I wish I owned Erik!) I'm not making any money from this, I'm just writing this for fun. I do however own Annabelle and any other OCs you may find in the story.

* * *

**Chapter 20**

* * *

_…February 14th, 1880…_

Standing in front of the altar, all Erik could do was smile as he gazed at Belle and held her smaller hands in his own. He had only been vaguely aware of the ceremony going on around him—knowing that he would not remember a moment of it except the sight of his beloved. There were no words he could think of that could effectively describe how very beautiful his bride looked at that moment…

Belle's white gown was simple but elegant, with a very minimal bustle and a simple train—allowing the gown a more natural and flowing fit. The high-necked collar was of a delicate, French lace that matched the lace of the veil that currently hid her lovely face from Erik's view, and the dress itself gently hugged her graceful curves in a loving embrace of silk and satin. Half of her golden tresses were pulled loosely back with the exception of a few curls that gently and almost lovingly framed her face, and she wore a small sapphire broach at her neck.

But aside from all that, Belle was positively glowing—only adding to her natural beauty and making her appear beatifically radiant as a blissful smile curved upon her lips. Not even the veil could hide that from Erik's keen gaze, and it only made his smile grow from the knowledge that his beloved was glowing because she was so very happy. Belle was happy to be marrying him.

_Him_!

_He_ who had made an art out of terrifying people, now made his precious angel happy.

_He_ who had made people's faces contort in terror, now made his beloved angel glow.

_He_ who had for so long believed and accepted the prospect of dying alone and unloved, now had a woman who would love him for the rest of her life. She was his angel sent down from Heaven itself.

And she was all _his_!

It was now time for Erik to lift Belle's veil, and he did so happily. His heart fluttered in his chest when he saw the glittering pools of his beloved's eyes gazing at him so lovingly, and it was all he could do not to capture her enticing lips in a deep kiss at that very moment.

That time would come soon enough.

Instead, Erik once more took Belle's little hands in his own larger ones and listened as the priest began the wedding vows.

"Erik Dessler, do you take this woman as your lawfully wedded wife? Do you promise to love and to cherish her in sickness and in health? Do you promise to cleave to her and her alone…forsaking all others until death do you part?"

"I do," Erik answered with a smile as he gazed lovingly into Belle's eyes and took the gold ring that was resting on the priest's bible and gently slid it onto his beloved's delicate ring finger.

Smiling, the priest turned to Belle. "And do you, Belle Warren, take this man as your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to love, honor and obey him in sickness and in health? Do you promise to cleave to him and him alone…forsaking all others until death do you part?"

"I do," Belle answered with a smile as she lovingly gazed back into the warm, honey-colored pools of Erik's eyes and took a second gold ring from the priest's bible before sliding it onto her beloved's finger.

The priest's smile grew. "Then it is with great joy that by the power vested in me by God above, that I now pronounce you man and wife." He looked to Erik. "You may now kiss the bride."

Erik was only too happy to do so, and he captured Belle's lips in a slow kiss, inwardly he roared to the heavens in his head. _See this woman? See my woman? See how she loves me? She is mine now forever and always, and so long as there is life in my body, I will never let her go!_

~*~*~

_...Reception hall; a few hours later..._

"Congratulations, Dessler."

"Thank you."

"Many happy returns, Erik."

"Thank you, monsieur."

"May the two of you have a very happy life together."

"Thank you so very much for your kind wish."

"You certainly have a fine wife, Dessler," Leland Stanford said with a smile.

"Yes, I certainly do," Erik said in agreement as he watched his new bride from across the room as she was fawned over by several women. It was a genuine smile that spread over his face as he took in the site of Belle. She was such a beauty, and the beauty of her appearance was surpassed only by the beauty of her heart. "I know we will be very happy together."

"Oh, I have no doubt of it," Stanford said with a smile before sipping his drink. "In any case," he said before clapping Erik on the back. "One good turn deserves another."

Erik blinked and tore his gaze from Belle to look down in genuine puzzlement at the shorter man. "What do you mean?"

Stanford grinned up at his business associate. "Ground has officially been broken today on the opera house."

Erik's face immediately lit up with a smile of excitement. "That is most excellent news," he said as he clapped his partner on the back. "I will begin auditioning singers immediately. Oh, and I must find a suitable ballet mistress as well as a corps de ballet…"

"That can wait until after your honeymoon, Dessler," Stanford said with a chuckle. "There's no need to rush this. You have plenty of time."

"Yes," I suppose you are right," Erik said before sighing happily as he returned his gaze to Belle one more—his heart fluttering delightfully in his chest when their eyes met and she smiled at him. "This day could not be more perfect if God himself blessed it."

Stanford looked back and forth between Erik and Belle as they gazed at each other. Even on separate sides of the room, the connection between them was strong, and he knew in that moment that the two of them belonged to each other in every sense of the word. It was with that truth that Stanford smiled up at Erik. "How do you know it hasn't been?"

Erik glanced down at the man before looking back to his still smiling bride. "You're right," he said before blowing a small kiss to Belle. "This day is truly blessed." His smile grew when his bride began making her way over to him. He was finally getting his own opera house, and he was accepted by his community, and he had the love of a beautiful woman. "I am a truly blessed man."

~*~*~

_…Hours later…_

In their bedchamber, Erik watched his beloved Belle as she sat at her dressing table and brushed out her golden tresses with long strokes. He remembered vividly how it felt to run his fingers through that silken hair, and he could not wait to do so again…just as he could not wait to feel his bride's soft, naked body against his.

But that could wait for now…

Smiling, he strode over until he stood behind her. "I have wonderful news, my love," Erik said as he rested his hands on Belle's shoulders and gazed at her through their reflection.

"Do tell, my darling," Belle said with a smile as she pushed her brush down and rested her hands over her husband's—taking a moment to nuzzle one of them.

"Ground has been broken on the opera house," Erik said with his smile still in place as he raised one hand and tenderly brushed it across Belle's cheek. "It is only a matter of time now before the entire city learns of the beauty of your voice."

Belle's smile grew and her exquisite eyes glittered as she gazed at her husband through their reflection. "Oh, Erik how wonderful!" She gently grabbed the hand Erik was brushing against her cheek and lovingly kissed his fingers. "I'm so happy for you. It's everything you've ever dreamed of…everything you've ever wanted."

For several moments, Erik said nothing but simply gazed at their joint reflections in the mirror. As always when they were alone, he was without his mask, and as he gazed at his new wife and saw the fathomless love dwelling in her beautiful eyes as well as the tender smile that curled upon her tempting lips, Erik realized that nothing else mattered.

Nothing else would ever matter again.

"Even if there was no opera house, I would still have everything I ever wanted," Erik said as he took Belle's hands in his and gently pulled her to her feet. "All I ever wanted, my dear, sweet, precious Belle was to be loved." Lifting those little hands to his lips, Erik brushed tender kisses to Belle's fingers. "And you have given me love in abundance."

Gazing deeply into Belle's eyes, Erik placed both her little hand over his heart. "Even if I had nothing else…this mansion, my wealth…so long as I had you and your love, I would consider myself richly and truly blessed."

Belle stood on tip-toe and brushed a tender kiss to her husband's lips. "My love…my beloved protector, even if we were poor and living in a tiny shack, I would still love you with my entire heart."

Erik's arms slid around Belle and pressed her close to his body. "And that is all I will ever ask of you, ma petite ange…" he murmured against his wife's lips before kissing them. "Love me."

"Forever and always, Erik," Belle whispered before surrendering to her husband's deepening kiss and melting into the strength of his body as he pressed her tightly to him. "I love you," she murmured as she ran her fingers through Erik's dark hair as he trailed light, nibbling kisses down her throat—shivering as she felt the hard evidence of his arousal pressing against her. "I love you."

Erik smiled down at his beloved as he slowly unfastened her dressing down—exposing her flawless body to his loving yet hungry gaze. As he slowly pushed the robe from Belle's delicate shoulders, he saw that she still wore her silk stockings, but Erik did not mind the prospect of removing them. "You are so very perfect, ma petite," he murmured against Belle's lips before kissing them as he lifted his wife into his arms and carried her over to the bed—sitting her down at the foot of it.

The smile never once left Erik's face as he gently leaned Belle back until she lay on her back. "Such perfection deserves to be worshipped in its entirety," he murmured huskily before slowly nuzzling and kissing his way down Belle's neck and collar bone—seeking out all those secret places that made his young beloved gasp in pleasure. "And I intend to do just that," he whispered as he kissed his way down the valley between Belle's round, soft breasts—his hands cupping and caressing them before he captured one pert nipple into his mouth and suckled.

Erik growled softly in response to Belle's gasp of pleasure—delighting in how her lithe body arched beneath him. Shivers of delight ran through his body as her fingers ran through his hair and moved against his scalp as she cradled his head to her breasts, and he could not stop the smile from playing over his lips when his young wife moaned his name. It never ceased to amaze Erik just how responsive Belle was to his touch—every kiss…every caress.

Erik was driving Belle to distraction! Every flick of his tongue, every light graze of his teeth…it was maddening! Everywhere her husband's fingers touched caused shivers of delight to course through her body, and when Erik released the nipple he had been suckling only to fasten himself onto her other, Belle felt her womb ache with longing, and she could not stop the soft whimpers from escaping her lips.

When he had finally satisfied himself on Belle's breasts, Erik kissed his way down his wife's stomach—pausing long enough to lightly nip her navel before lightly kissing his way down each leg as he removed the stockings.

As Erik's hands began their painstaking way back up her legs as Erik pressed light, nipping kisses up along the insides of her thighs, Belle thought she would lose her mind. "Erik, please…!" she begged as she raised her head so she could gaze down the length of her body at her husband.

"Patience, ma petite amour," Erik murmured huskily with a smile as he knelt between Belle's legs. "You are in your entirety a precious gift to me, and I intend to worship you like the divine being you are." Keeping his gazed locked on hers, Erik lightly blew upon Belle's sensitive nub—his smile growing when she shuddered and gasped softly in pleasure. "I would do anything for you, my angel," Erik murmured. "I would die for you…I would kill for you…"

"Erik…"

"Sssshh, ma petite ange," Erik whispered as he nuzzled the inside of Belle's thigh. "Let me worship you…" Keeping his gaze still locked on his wife's, Erik slowly ran his tongue over her wet folds—teasing her…tasting her before burying his face into her vulnerable femininity and worshiping her with his tongue.

Belle's eyes widened and she could not stop the small cry from escaping her throat. With Erik's elbows pressing her legs open while his hands gripped her hips, there was nothing she could do but lay open before him as he feasted upon her.

She was his captive…

And he was her master.

Belle's whimpers of blissful submission were music to Erik's ears and it spurred him on in his ministrations. He ignored the ache of his throbbing length in favor of delivering pleasure upon pleasure to the woman who showed him just how beautiful life and love could be.

When he heard Belle's whimpered moans of pleasure take on a familiar franticness, Erik knew his beloved was close to release and intensified his ministrations. He suckled her sensitive nub into his mouth and lavished attention upon it with his tongue and teeth—being rewarded moments later with Belle's stifled cry of pleasure as her petite body shuddered with release.

Pulling away with a final lick, Erik stood and gazed down hungrily at his wife. Her flushed and trembling body was open and ready for him…waiting, and as Belle gradually turned her lust-darkened gaze towards his own, Erik knew that he would no longer be able to deny what the both of them wanted even if he tried. His gaze never once left Belle's as he unfastened his robe and let it fall to the floor, and he smiled approvingly as he watched his wife sit up and shift backwards on the bed so she would be able to lie fully upon it.

Growling low in his throat, Erik slowly crawled up the bed—never once breaking his gaze with Belle as he positioned himself over her. He kissed her hungrily and his tongue took possession of her mouth as he pinned Belle's wrists above her head and slammed into her to the hilt. His groans of pleasure mixed with Belle's whimpered moans—creating a unique melody as he took possession of her willing body with hard, deep strokes.

Breaking the kiss, Erik nibbled his way down the side of Belle's neck before lightly nipping her racing pulse—instantly being rewarded with a gasp of pleasure as his wife wrapped her legs around him. God in Heaven, Erik would never tire of this!

He would never tire of being so intimately joined with so beautiful a woman.

He would never tire of the musical sounds of Belle's pleasure….sounds that only Erik alone was able to coax out of her. She was like a finely-tuned musical instrument…an instrument that only Erik was allowed to play—and play he did. Removing one of his hands from Belle's wrists, Erik's fingers soon joined his mouth in their attentions to his beloved's body—both teasing the secret places that only _he_ knew about. His hand caressed while his mouth marked, and as his thrusts became harder and faster, he built their joint pleasure into an amazing crescendo that ended with the two of them crying each other's names as their bodies shuddered together in the blissful euphoria that only release could bring.

Resting his forehead against Belle's, Erik released her hands at last and wrapped his arms around her as he rolled the both of them onto their sides—cradling his beloved's smaller body against his as he began thrusting into her with slow and lazy thrusts. He tenderly kissed Belle's forehead. "My love…" He kissed her eyelids. "My life…" He kissed her cheeks. "My angel…" He kissed her lips. "My wife."

Belle sighed in contentment as she lovingly cupping Erik's face in her hands—her hips moving in a lazy rhythm that matched her husband's. "My love…" She kissed both his cheeks. "My world…" She kissed his nose. "My protector…" She kissed his lips. "My husband."

Erik gazed lovingly into Belle's eyes. "You alone can make my song take flight," he whispered before kissing her lips.

Belle smiled as she gazed back into Erik's eyes. "Let us make the music of the night."

~*~*~

_…Below the manor; hours later…_

"Please…" Reginald begged weakly as Erik chained him to two beams by his wrists and ankles. "Please just let me go. I promise to never come near her again," he added when met with silence.

"I am afraid I cannot do that, monsieur," Erik answered simply. "For you see, I have known many a man like you throughout my life. You take delight in the destruction of innocence." He ripped the shredded remains of Reginald's clothing from the man's body—revealing the angry bruises and gashes that came from days of being beaten within and inch of his life. "If you were indeed to keep your word and stay away from my wife, you would simply find another victim to torture in the ways that you tortured her…" He smiled cruelly. "In the ways I have visited back upon you….and that is something I simply cannot allow."

Erik turned on his heel and slowly strode towards a nearby table and swept his gaze over the multitude of torture tools arranged over the surface. "Tell me…how many helpless girls did you mistreat before my Belle? How many suffered at your hands?"

"What does it matter to you?" Reginald spat. "You're a monster!"

"Yes," Erik agreed with a small nod. "I am a monster," he said evenly…matter-of-factly as he selected a cat-o-nine tails—one with small pieces of metal woven into the ends of the individual whips—from the table. "I have been called that many a time throughout my life," he said as he turned and made his way back to the restrained man with slow, deliberate steps.

"I am a monster…a thing from Hell…the Devil's child. I am all these things, but I am also fortunate to have won the love of an angel. The beautiful angel sleeping just floors above you in my bed suffered needlessly at your hands for years, and it is for that reason that you now suffer at mine." Erik continued walking until he was behind Reginald.

"You see…angels are not allowed to commit the sort of atrocities that have occurred in this room. But a devil can!" It was with that that Erik drew back his arm and snapped it forward—cracking the many-tailed whip against Reginald's back with the kind of accuracy that only years of experience could allow, and it was a cruel, sadistic smile that stretched over his face at the sound of Reginald's screams.

"It is rather ironic, actually," Erik mused as he watched blood ooze down Reginald's heaving back as it poured from fresh wounds. "A demon protecting an angel…" He cracked the whip again, not even so much as flinching when some blood spattered onto his face. "But I suppose even devils would seek to protect that to which they so desperately cleave..."

"Please…" Reginald wept. "Please have mercy…I beg of you…"

"Mercy?" Erik repeated. "You wish for me to show you mercy, monsieur?" He moved so he was standing in front of his captive victim. "Why should I grant you mercy when you allowed my wife no such relief during her time with you?" He narrowed his eyes into dangerous slits. "Why should I grant you mercy knowing just _what_ it was you intended to do with my beloved angel if you had actually succeeded in taking her away from me?"

Erik toyed with the whip tails as he regarded the man before him with a burning hatred that rivaled the intensity of Hell itself. "Why should I grant you mercy, monsieur when you yourself looked into my angel's pleading eyes and delivered torment after torment, day after day?" He drew back his hand. "No, monsieur…you are neither deserving nor worthy of my mercy." He cracked the many-tailed whip against Reginald's stomach—ripping deeply into the soft flesh.

"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!" Reginald screamed. "PLEASE! Please have mercy!"

Erik smiled coldly before stepping away and striding back to the table. "As much as the idea of torturing you until you breath your very last breath appeals to me, monsieur…I cannot ignore the fact that every moment spent with you, is a moment that keeps me from basking in the light and love that is my wife," he said as he placed the many-tailed whip back on the table and instead took up a blood-red noose.

"You may rest assured though, monsieur," Erik said as he strode back towards Reginald. "That while your many days of torture have finally come to an end, your death will by no means be quick and painless." As he spoke, he draped the noose around his victim's neck. "You may also rest assured monsieur, that I shall be here to see the light dies from your eyes," Erik said with a cold smile as he tightened the noose.

"You're…you're a thing from Hell!" Reginald choked out.

Erik's smile never once wavered. "And you monsieur, are Hell-bound."

* * *

**A/N:** Please check out the poll on my profile! :)


	21. Chapter 21

Please review! I love hearing from my readers! I live for reviews, and I do in fact allow anonymous reviews, so don't be shy! If you have reviewed, I heartily thank you! Please note that while I welcome constructive criticism, all flamers will be strung up with the Punjab lasso! Sorry for the delay, but I'm going over a few different directions in which to take this story, and well...that sort of thing takes time, lol.

**Disclaimer:**I don't own 'Phantom of the Opera' (any of the renditions) or any of the cannon characters...unfortunately...(God, I wish I owned Erik!) I'm not making any money from this, I'm just writing this for fun. I do however own Annabelle and any other OCs you may find in the story.

* * *

**Chapter 21**

* * *

_...Erik's office, a month later..._

"Yes, come in," Erik said upon hearing a knock at his door as he shifted some papers around on his desk.

"Excuse me, Monsieur Dessler," Mrs. Pierce said as she opened the door and gave a small curtsy. "But there is a gentleman by the name of Donald Masterson here to see you."

"Ah yes," Erik said with a nod as he pushed his chair back and stood. "Show him in."

"Yes, monsieur," the housekeeper said before gesturing in a small, middle-aged man with brown hair that was graying at the temples. Once he was inside, Mrs. Pierce respectively bowed out of the room and closed the door behind her.

"Thank you for coming, monsieur," Erik said as he motioned for Donald to sit. "Shall I ring for some form of refreshment?"

"Thank you, but no," Donald said with a polite smile and a small wave of his hand as he sat in the proffered chair.

"Very well," Erik said with a small nod. "The reason I have called you here is because I understand that you are in the business of finding people."

"I do have a knack for it yes," Donald said with a nod and a smile.

"Good," Erik said as he drew out an envelope from his jacket pocket. "In that case, I wish for you to travel to France and deliver this letter to the woman whose name appears on the envelope," he said as he closed the distance between Donald and himself and handed the letter over to him. "Once you have delivered the letter, I wish for you to deliver her response back to me. Please remember to take note of her address. I will of course pay for your expenses."

Donald accepted the letter and looked down at it's surface to see only a woman's name. There was no address of any kind for the woman, and there was no return address either. "Very well, sir," he said as he placed the letter in his breast pocket. "Consider it done."

"And please remember to be discrete," Erik said pointedly.

"Of that, you can rest assured, sir," Donald said with a smile and a nod.

"Very good," Erik said with a nod. "You shall receive half of you payment now and the rest when you return. If you wait for just a moment, I shall write you a check."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Now then," Erik said as he returned from his desk, check in hand before handing the payment to Donald. "If there is nothing else, I must ask that you leave me now," he said as he glanced towards the clock on the mantle. "The first of my auditions should be arriving at any moment."

~*~*~

_...Orphanage; a few hours later..._

"Oh, hello again Mrs. Dessler."

Belle smiled at the middle-aged woman as she approached her in the foyer. "Good afternoon, Mrs. White. It's nice to see you again as well."

"It's always a pleasure to have a visit from the Orphan's Committee. Won't you come into my office?" Mrs. White asked as she motioned towards a door to the left of the hall. "I was just about to have some tea."

"Oh, yes thank you," Belle said with a smile as she followed the older woman into the room.

"Do please sit down," Mrs. White said as she gestured towards one of two chairs arranged around a small table before tugging on the bell rope by the door. "Now, what is it I can do for you?" she asked as she sat down upon the second seat.

"Well," Belle said as she sat and folded her hands neatly in her lap. "As you know, I haven't been on the committee for very long, and I was simply wondering if there was anything else that I could do to help instead of simply helping to organize charitable events with the other women on the committee."

"I see," Mrs. White said before getting up to answer the door upon hearing a knock. She opened the door and allowed a young maid inside with a tray set for tea. "Thank you, Anne, that will be all," she said once the girl had placed the tray down on the table. "Did you have something particular in mind, Mrs. Dessler?" Mrs. White asked after closing the door behind Anne and resuming her seat before pouring the tea.

Belle was silent for a few moments in thought as she placed a lump of sugar into her tea. "Well, unless you can find fault with it, maybe I could come in every few afternoons and read to them?" she asked as she poured some milk into her tea before stiring it.

"Read to them?" Mrs. White asked as she prepared her own tea.

"Yes," Belle said with a nod. "I understand that reading may already be involved in their curriculum, but I thought that maybe they might enjoy something more entertaining." She took a sip of her tea.

"Well, that would be very lovely, Mrs. Dessler, but I wouldn't want you to trouble yourself or be put out by it." Mrs. White took a sip of her tea. "I understand that you must have other matters to attend to."

"It wouldn't be any trouble at all," Belle said with a warm smile. "I love to read...I always have. I wouldn't mind in the least bringing that joy to others."

"Your plans wouldn't take time away from your husband or your duties as lady of his house?" Mrs. White asked.

"Not at all," Belle said with a small shake of her head before sipping her tea.

Mrs. White took a sip of her tea. "Well, then in that case, I don't see a problem," she said with a smile. "I'm sure the children would enjoy it very much."

"I'm glad to hear it," Belle said with a happy smile. "Shall I come by tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow would be just fine," Mrs. White said with a small nod. "Now let's see...the children have lunch at noon, and have two more lessons after that, so why don't you come by around a quarter past two?"

Belle's smile never wavered. "I'll be here with bells on." She finished the last of her tea before putting her cup and saucer down on the table. "Thank you very much for the tea," she said as she stood.

"Oh, you're very welcome," Mrs. White said as she moved to stand.

"Oh, no don't get up," Belle said as she put her gloves back on. "I can find my own way out."

"Are you certain?" the older woman asked.

"Very much so," Belle answered with a smile as she moved to the door and opened it. "I'll see you tomorrow," she said before exiting and closing the door behind her. She had not gotten very far when a small boy with dark curls was tripped by an older and larger boy. The larger boy and his small posse pointed and laughed at the small boy but when they saw Belle, they hurried away. Belle used that moment to hurry over to the small boy and drop to her knees beside him before helping him to his feet. "There now...are you alright?" she asked as she gently brushed the boy off while checking him for injury.

"Yes," the boy answered softly with a small nod as he kept his eyes averted.

"Do those boys pick on you often?" Belle asked gently.

The boy nodded mutely.

"Why?"

The boy said nothing but raised his gaze to Belle's--allowing her to see that his eyes were two different colors...one so brown that it was almost black, and the other a warm, golden hazel.

"Oh, I see," Belle said softly before smiling gently. "Your eyes shouldn't be something you're ashamed of," she said.

"All the other boys and girls think I'm strange," the boy said softly.

"Only because they're jealous," Belle said. "What's your name?" she asked gently.

"Nathanial," the boy answered softly.

"It's very nice to meet you, Nathanial," Belle said with a smile. "My name is Belle Dessler, but you can call me Belle."

Nathanial smiled shyly. "You're pretty."

"Why thank you," Belle answered with a smile.

"Are you an angel?"

Belle giggled softly and her smile never wavered. "Goodness gracious, no. I'm just as human as you are."

"Oh," Nathanial said softly before falling silent for several moments. "Will you be back?" he asked softly as he tentatively curled his little fingers around a lock of Belle's hair.

Belle smiled sweetly and lightly touched a hand to Nathanial's curls. "Yes."

"Promise?" Nathanial asked softly.

"I promise."

~*~*~

_...Music room; a few hours later..._

"Come in," Erik said absently from his place upon the piano bench upon hearing a knock at the door. Expecting to see Mrs. Pierce with yet another auditioning singer, the entirety of Erik's face lit up with a smile when he saw the smiling face of his wife peeking in. "Hello, my beloved. Come in, come in."

Belle was only too happy to oblige--closing the door behind her before closing the distance between Erik and herself and allowing her self to be wrapped in the warmth of her husband's arms. "I'm not disturbing you, am I?" she asked as she sat down upon Erik's lap.

"Not at all, my pet," Erik said with a smile before brushing a kiss to his wife's soft lips. "You are the perfect reprieve. If I have to subject my poor ears to one more shrieking man or woman who fancies themselves able to sing, I shall throw myself out of the attic window."

"Oh, please don't," Belle said as she wrapped her arms around Erik's neck. "Because then I'd be a widow, and I'd be very sad."

Erik smiled and nuzzled his wife's temple as he slowly stroked her hair. "We cannot have that, now can we? Very well then, my beloved. To keep you happy and smiling, I shall refrain from throwing myself to my death."

"Oh, good," Belle said with a happy smile.

Erik chuckled softly. "Though you would not be a widow for long...not with your beauty and sweet disposition...or all that I would bequeath to you upon my demise."

Belle grew serious. "I wouldn't want another husband."

Erik tilted his head to the side a little. "Are you telling me that if I were to die right here and now, you would rather spend the rest of your days as a widow?"

"Yes," Belle answered with a nod.

"Why, my love?" Erik asked curiously.

Belle smiled softly as she gazed deeply into her husband's eyes. "Because I know in my heart that I could never love any other man as much as I love you. If I were to marry again, my new husband would be forever living in your shadow because though you would be dead, you would never truly be gone from my mind or my heart." She tenderly kissed Erik's lips. "I would mourn you until the day I died."

Erik's heart fluttered wildly in his chest and his arms tightened around Belle as he held her close. "Then I shall have to make certain that I do not leave this world until you are an old woman...for I cannot stand the thought of leaving you sad and alone while you still have years of life left within you."

Belle smiled. "I'll hold you to that, my love."

"Oh, how I love you," Erik murmured against Belle's lips before kissing them tenderly. "What did you get up to today?" he asked upon breaking the kiss.

"Well, I didn't want to bother you since I knew you would be busy with auditions today--"

"You could never be a bother to me, Belle my pet," Erik said firmly. "But continue."

Belle smiled. "I went into town and stopped by the orphanage."

"Oh?" Erik curiously raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," Belle said with a nod. "I've arranged to go in every few afternoons and read to the children. I hope you don't mind."

Erik smiled softly and though he felt a small twinge of envy that the orphans would have such a light in their lives when he himself had never had such a luxury as a child, he knew could not deny them that small joy...especially when he himself knew how it felt to be unwanted and unloved. "Why would I mind, ma petite? Every day I become more and more convinced that you are one of God's angels sent to Earth...it would be a crime to deny your light to the young souls of unfortunate children." He lightly caressed Belle's cheek with the backs of his knuckles. "I know how important the orphanage and its orphans are to you, my love...therefore, you will hear no argument from me when it comes to whatever ideas you may have for their betterment."

Belle's smile grew. "Thank you, Erik my love. That means a great deal to me."

"I know," Erik answered as he stroked Belle's hair before capturing her lips in a slow and deep kiss. He growled softly in response to his wife's content sigh as her body melted into his own, and it was only Mrs. Peirce's distinctive knock at the door that prevented him from removing Belle's clothing and taking her right there on on the piano bench.

Drawing away with an irritated groan, Erik allowed Belle to remove herself from his lap before looking to the door. "Come in," he said with a lingering trace of annoyance and the smallest of frowns.

"Excuse me, Monsieur Dessler," Mrs. Pierce said as she opened the door. "But this young man is here to audition."

"Show him in," Erik said.

"Would you like me to go?" Belle asked.

"Not at all, me petite," Erik said with a shake of his head as he looked to his wife and motioned for her to sit in the chair beside the piano bench. "What is your name?" he asked as he turned his attention to the young man the housekeeper had just shown into the room.

"Andrew Watson," the young man answered.

Erik gave a small nod of acknowledgement as he quickly took in the sight of the young man. He stood perhaps two inches shorter than he did and with his blond hair and bright green eyes he possessed an almost child-like quality to his already young appearance. Erik would have been surprised if Andrew was a day over thirty. "And what is your voice type?"

"Tenor, sir," Andrew answered.

"Very well," Erik said as he held out a hand for the sheets of music Andrew currently held in his hand. Once the pages had been handed over, he placed them on the piano. "_Nessun Dorma_," he mused while inwardly groaning. Many had been the time that afternoon that he had been subjected to someone butchering the beautiful aria. To his credit though, he kept his face impassive and resolved himself to give Andrew.

"I realize it's a common aria to be sung at an audition, so I apologize if you've already heard it today," Andrew said with a sheepish smile.

"That is neither here nor there, monsieur," Erik said with a small wave of his hand before placing his hands over the keys. "Alright then, monsieur...let me know when you are ready." Once he had received a nod from Andrew, Erik's fingers began moving effortlessly over the smooth ivory keys.

Having been bracing himself for an untrained voice that did not do the aria proper justice, Erik found himself more than pleasantly surprised when he found himself suddenly surrounded by a warm and rich voice the likes of which he had not heard in a very long time. Andrew's voice had power and substance, and it resonated throughout the room. Once Andrew had finished the aria, Erik simply sat in silence before looking to Belle. Her eyes were closed, and he knew she had been just as touched by the young man's voice as he had been. When she opened her lovely, eyes and locked gazes with Erik, he knew they had reached the same answer.

"Congratulations, Monsieur Watson," Erik said with a small yet approving smile. "You are the company's new Primo Uomo."

Andrews eyes glittered with excitement and his entire face lit up with his smile. "Really?"

"Oui," Erik answered with a nod. "Your voice is exquisite and it shall compliment that of my wife perfectly."

"Oh, thank you," Andrew said as he hurried forward and shook Erik's hand. "Thank you so much, monsieur. You do me a great honor."

Erik smiled and shook Andrew's hand in return as he stood. "You are more than welcome. Allow me to introduce Belle Dessler...my wife as well as the company's Prima Donna." Erik held out his free hand and helped Belle to her feet as he released Andrew's hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Watson," Belle said with a friendly smile as she offered Andrew a small curtsy.

"And it is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Dessler," Andrew said with a small but polite bow--his smile never once leaving his face. "I look forward to working with you as well."


	22. Chapter 22

Please review! I love hearing from my readers! I live for reviews, and I do in fact allow anonymous reviews, so don't be shy! If you have reviewed, I heartily thank you! Please note that while I welcome constructive criticism, all flamers will be strung up with the Punjab lasso!

**Warning:** Sexual content near the end. There, you've been warned, lol ;-p

**Disclaimer:**I don't own 'Phantom of the Opera' (any of the renditions) or any of the cannon characters...unfortunately...(God, I wish I owned Erik!) I'm not making any money from this, I'm just writing this for fun. I do however own Annabelle and any other OCs you may find in the story.

* * *

**Chapter 22**

* * *

_...A few days later..._

"And they all lived happily ever after," Belle said with a smile as she gently closed the book.

"More," several of the children seated at her feet pleaded.

"More?" Belle repeated with a smile and a soft giggle.

"Please, Mrs. Dessler?" Nathanial pleaded as he gently tugged on the hem of Belle's dress before letting his head fall onto her lap.

"Now, now, children," Mrs. White reprimanded gently. "You can't keep Mrs. Dessler all day long. She has a house and a husband to tend to."

There was a chorus of whines followed by a series of pouts.

"Oh, don't worry," Belle said soothingly with a smile. "I'll be back. I promise."

"Tomorrow?" Nathanial asked hopefully as he looked up at Belle with his mismatched eyes.

Belle smiled sweetly and gently caressed the small boy's curls. "If you like," she answered.

"Yay!" all the children exclaimed happily while clapping their hands.

"Alright now, children," Mrs. White said as she gave a short blow on the whistle she wore around her neck. "Go off about your days now. Go on."

Belle stood when Nathanial allowed her the space, and she patted the boy's head before sending him on his way. "Mrs. White, I was hoping to have a word with you."

"Of course," Mrs. White said with a nod as she began leading the way to her office. "Shall I send for some tea?"

"Oh, no thank you," Belle said as she was ushered into the room.

"I really do want to thank you for coming," the older woman said as she closed the door behind her before motioning for Belle to sit.

"Well, the children seem to genuinely enjoy it," Belle said with a smile as she sat. "And it's their enjoyment that brings me to what I wanted to discuss with you."

"And what would that be?"

Belle softly cleared her throat. "Well I was thinking that perhaps it would be good and fun for the children to have an Easter picnic. If my husband approves, we could hold it in the gardens of our home."

Mrs. White blinked in surprise. "Why...Mrs. Dessler...I don't know what to say."

"It wouldn't be a charity," Belle said. "But it would at the very least give the children a chance to enjoy a day outside amongst people and other children...and who knows? Perhaps a few of them might be adopted," she added with a smile. "I wanted to run the idea by you first before I brought it up to the Orphan's Committee. If you think it's worthwhile, then I'll bring it up with the others, but if you don't, then I won't."

"I think it's a wonderful idea, Mrs. Dessler, but do you think your husband would in fact approve of the idea? Of hosting the event, I mean."

"Oh, I'm sure he will," Belle said with a smile. "And even if he didn't, I know I could convince someone else on the committee to host the event...especially if other committee member contributed food and refreshments to the cause. There's still a few weeks until Easter, so there will be plenty of time for planning."

"Oh, Mrs. Dessler, if this picnic does in fact take place, I know the children will be thrilled," Mrs. White said with a smile. "I will gladly help in any way I can if it goes through."

Belle smiled sweetly. "All you have to do is make sure the children are there. We'll take care of the rest."

~*~*~

_...Music room; an hour later..._

"Thank you for your time. I will let you know of my final decision," Erik said as he ushered a hopeful auditionee out of the room. "Madame Pierce, if you will please show this gentleman out?"

"Of course, Monsieur Dessler," the housekeeper said with a small bow of her head. "This way if you please."

Once the pair had departed, Erik was about to retreat back into the room when he caught sight of Belle heading towards the staircase. "Darling," he called. "Won't you come here?"

"Of course, my love," Belle said with a smile as she hurried over. "I won't be bothering you?" she asked as she stepped into the room.

"Not in the slightest," Erik answered as he closed the door behind his wife. "Talk to me, my pet," he said as he wrapped his arms around Belle and nuzzled her hair. "Make me forget all the tediousness I have been forced to endure."

"Oh, my poor darling. Haven't you had any luck today?"

"I found plenty of people for the chorus...one of which was a soprano who could very easily fill any supporting role that called for an ingenue type of voice, but I have yet to find a voice suitable enough to be the company's Basso Profundo. Both your and Andrews voices are exquisite and worthy of the positions they entail, but I have yet to find such a person for the lowest register."

"You'll find him, my love," Belle reassured. "I know you will."

Erik smiled against Belle's temple. "Then it shall be so. In any case, how was your day? Where did you go?"

"My day has been wonderful, my love," Belle answered as she leaned her head into Erik's nuzzling. "I visited the orphanage today and read to the children."

"And how did that go?" Erik asked as he kissed his wife's cheek.

"Very well," Belle said with a smile before brushing a kiss to her husband's jaw. "They loved it. After that I did a little shopping."

"Oh? And what did you buy, my pet?" Erik asked as he nuzzled Belle's jaw while breathing in her scent.

Small shivers of delight raced through Belle's body as she all but melted into Erik. "A new hat for myself since I needed a lighter one for the spring, and a new set of cuff links for you, my love."

Erik smiled--truly touched by the fact that his wife had gotten a present for him. Even now, Erik could hardly believe the dramatic turn his life had taken, and how utterly happy he was. "Oh, my love...you did not have to..."

"I know," Belle said as she turned in Erik's arms and slid her own arms up and around his neck. "But I wanted to," she said with a sweet smile.

Erik captured Belle's soft, rosebud lips in a deep, slow kiss--one hand gently tangling into her luxurious, golden tresses while the other pressed against the small of her back. "Ma petite ange," he murmured softly against Belle's lips upon breaking the kiss. "J'taime..." He kissed her again. "J'adore..."

Belle's cheeks glowed with a slight flush, and as always, she was left somewhat breathless from Erik's kiss. "I love and adore you too, my beloved. My heart belongs to you...you are its master, and I couldn't be happier."

"You are happy then, my pet?" Erik asked softly with a smile.

"Extremely," Belle answered with a smile.

"I am very glad to hear it," Erik said as his smile grew. He leaned down and brushed a tender kiss to Belle's forehead--delighting in the soft, content sigh that escaped his wife's lips.

"Darling?" Belle asked softly as she nestled into her husband's body.

"Yes, my pet?" Erik asked as he rested his chin on the top of Belle's head.

"May I ask you something?"

"Of course." Erik gently rubbed Belle's back. "You can ask me anything, you know that."

"Well..."

"Yes?"

"I thought that maybe we could host an Easter picnic here for the orphans," Belle said. "If you don't like the idea, then I'll see if another member of the Orphan's Committee will do it."

Erik was silent for a few moments before he shifted his head and moved a hand to gently tilt Belle's face up to his. "Is it something you desire, pet?" he asked gently.

"It is, my love," Belle answered softly.

Erik smiled. "Then it shall be so."

Belle's unique eyes sparkled with delight and her entire face lit up with her smile. "Oh, Erik, really?"

"Oui, my darling love," Erik said with a nod. "I can deny you nothing, and I can see no harm in providing unfortunate children with a day of happiness and joy. I would be a truly selfish man indeed if I denied children such things when I myself have them in abundance." He brushed a tender kiss to his wife's forehead. "And I know how much this committee means to you, my angel...and I would be lying if I said that it did not mean something to me as well." He sighed softly. "If I had been fortunate enough to have a presence like you in my youth for only a few days, I dare say that my life may have turned out quite differently. I cannot in good conscience deny these children the opportunity for the happiness and acceptance that I never had."

Still smiling, Belle stood on tip-toe and kissed Erik's lips soundly. "Oh, Erik my love, thank you. Thank you so much."

"You are more than welcome, my precious pet," Erik said with a smile before lightly rubbing his nose against Belle's. He sighed when Mrs. Peirce's familiar rap sounded at the door. "Enter," he said after slowly pulling away from Belle.

"Forgive me for disturbing you, monsieur, but are you receiving anymore auditions today?" Mrs. Pierce asked after she opened the door.

"I believe I have time for one more before stopping for the day," Erik said as he ushered Belle to sit upon the piano bench. "Show the person in."

"The master will see you now," Mrs. Pierce said to the person in the hall with her before pushing the door open more to allow a dark-haired, dark-eyed man to enter.

The man appeared to be in his thirties, and his long, dark curls fell about his face as he nervously clutched his cap in his hands. In attempts to put the man at ease, Belle gave him a warm and friendly smile as she sat quietly with her hands neatly folded in her lap.

"Thank you, Madame Pierce," Erik said. "That will be all."

"Yes, monsieur," the housekeeper said with a small bow of her head before leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

"Good afternoon, monsieur," Erik said politely. "I am Erik Dessler, and this is my wife," he said as he motioned towards Belle. "What is your name?"

"Armando Luca," the man answered softly.

"Very well, Armando. What is your voice type?"

"_Excuse_?" Armando asked.

Erik blinked then sighed softly and resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Do you not speak English?"

"My English...not good," Armando said sheepishly as he gripped his soft cap. "But...I singer."

"_Italiano_?" Erik asked.

Armando's entire face lit up at the prospect of someone understanding his native tongue. "_Si_, _signore_," he said with a nod before rattling off in Italian.

Her own Italian limited to arias and recitative, Belle watched in utter awe and amazement as Erik listened, nodded and even conversed back in fluid Italian with the man. Her husband truly was a man of many gifts and talents. When Armando took his place next to the piano as Erik sat down upon the bench, Belle could not resist leaning over and softly asking, "What's happening?"

"He has had no formal training and says he is self-taught," Erik answered his wife back softly. "According to the aria he is requesting I accompany him on, I can effectively conclude that he is a bass. Normally, I would not bother with an untrained voice, but..."

"But?"

Erik sighed. "He and his family are new to the country and new to the city," he explained. "I will audition him, and if his voice proves agreeable, I will give him a place in the chorus. If not, then I will see that he gets a position as a stagehand or something else of that nature. At the very least, it will be a guaranteed source of income for his family."

Belle smiled sweetly. "That is very kind of you, my love."

Erik gave his wife a small smile. "I know only too well what it is like to be a stranger in a strange land. It is difficult enough for a man to make his way on his own, but when he has a wife and children to provide for..."

"You don't need to explain yourself to me," Belle said with a smile which she also directed at Armando.

Erik placed his hands over the smooth, ivory keys of the piano and looked to Armando who gave him a small nod to signify that he was ready. Moments later, Erik played the few introductory notes for the aria the man had prepared, and moments later both he and Belle were wrapped in the deep timbre of Armando's voice as he sang one of Figaro's more well-known arias from _The Marriage of Figaro_.

What the voice lacked in formal training, it made up for in warmth, strength and expression, and as Erik played, he could visualize Armando on stage in the role of Figaro as he regaled the impressionable Cherubino about the glories of being in the army. Just as Andrew's voice had touched him only days before, Erik once again found himself moved by Armando's voice. Training or not, Erik knew that he had found the company's leading bass, and when he looked to Belle once the aria had drawn to a close, he knew that his wife felt the same way.

"Erik..." Belle pleaded softly.

"I know. Leave it to me, my pet," Erik said softly before turning to Armando and speaking to him in his native tongue.

Armando's entire face lit up with his smile and he dropped to his knees as he thanked Erik profusely.

Smiling, Erik stood and helped Armando to his feet. The two men chatted all the way to the door before Erik showed Armando out. Knowing the newest addition to the company's principle cast would be in the capable hands of Mrs. Pierce, Erik closed the door and strode back to the piano. "I informed Monsieur Luca of my decision, and I also informed him that I would train him at no cost to him."

Belle's heart fluttered and she could not stop herself from throwing her arms around her husband's neck. "Oh, Erik, my love! You are simply too good and wonderful." She kissed him. "You are so kind." Another kiss. "So very kind, my love. Oh, how I love you."

Erik groaned softly as he captured Belle's lips in a deep kiss and pulled her gently onto his lap. "If I am good and kind, it is because you have made me so," he murmured against his wife's lips before kissing them once more.

Belle smiled sweetly. "I only nurtured what was already there, my love." She tenderly kissed Erik's forehead. "Oh, Erik! I just had an idea."

"Oh? By all means share," Erik said with a smile.

"We should have a dinner," Belle said. "A dinner with the Opera managers and the principle cast...that way we could all get to know each other. What do you think, my love?"

"I think it would be an excellent idea, my pet," Erik said with a nod of approval before nuzzling Belle's neck. "However, it can wait for now..." He lightly nipped the pulse at Belle's neck, grinning widely and growling softly at her soft gasp of pleasure. "For now...I have a better idea of how to spend our time until dinner..."

Belle's body responded to Erik immediately, and she could not stop the soft moan of longing from escaping her lips as her abdomen ached and a familiar warmth pooled between her legs. "Erik..." she breathed softly as her little hands clutched the lapels of his coat.

"I want you, Belle," Erik growled softly as his hands busied themselves with the fastenings of his wife's dress. "I have been thinking the entire day about making love to you." He left a trail of nipping kisses that managed to be both gentle and possessive down Belle's neck as he pushed her dress down from her shoulders.

"Take me, Erik," Belle breathed softly as she shrugged out of her dress. "My body is yours for the taking, my love...as always."

Without another word, Erik stood Belle up and pushed her dress down the rest of the way--leaving his wife standing in her corset, chemise and petticoats. Still sitting on the piano bench, Erik drew Belle close and undid the fastenings on her corset before drawing a pert nipple into his mouth and suckling it through the fabric of her chemise.

Belle's gasp of pleasure was soon followed by a whimper and she cradled Erik's head to her breasts as her back arched. "Erik..." She wriggled her hips to help her husband in pushing her petticoats as well as her knickers down into a pool of fabric on the floor until she was dressed only in her stockings and chemise--the latter of which joined the rest of her undergarments moments later.

Erik stood then--shrugging out of his jacket and letting it fall to the floor before unbuttoning his shirt and letting it drop carelessly as he unfastened his trousers. Not once did he take his lustful and loving gaze from Belle, and when he saw her shiver in anticipation when his throbbing length was freed from the confines of his clothing, he could not stop the smile from spreading over his lips. Once he was completely naked, he sat back down upon the piano bench and held his hands out to his beloved. "Come to me," he growled softly.

The moment Belle was close enough, Erik's arms were around her waist and he brought her down so she was straddling his lap before guiding her down onto his aching length. His grown of pleasure created a unique harmony with Belle's whimper as their bodies joined and became one. His arms wrapped tightly around his beloved wife, Erik began thrusting into her with a slow and even pace--allowing Belle to become accustomed to the new angle.

Moaning softly, Belle let her head fall forward on Erik's shoulder. This new angle allowed for her husband to be deeper inside of her than before and she whimpered in pleasure as he stroked new places inside of her. "Erik..." she moaned as she raised her head and gazed into his eyes as she rode him--her hands moving up to his face and removing his mask before she kissed him deeply. Her whimpered moans of pleasure only grew louder when Erik broke the kiss and suckled one of her earlobe into his mouth, and she could not stop herself from quickening her pace.

Unable to remain passive any longer, Erik stood--not once breaking his connection to Belle as he lifted her--and turned before placing the delicate blond down on the piano keys. A series of random chords rang out as Belle was placed upon them, but they only added to the erotic melody of the pleasured sounds escaping the two lovers' lips--Erik's low groans as he tightly gripped his wife's hips and drove possessively into her tight, welcoming warmth, and Belle's high whimpers as her husband took possession of her inner-most core as only he could.

Moments later, their pleasured sounds reached their crescendo before being stifled in a deep and hungry kiss as both their bodies shuddered hard in release. Not trusting his legs to hold the both of them up, Erik carefully brought Belle with him as he sat back down on the piano bench--cradling her trembling body as she clung to him. He was still inside of her as she straddled him once more, and Erik found himself unwilling to break their connection. His hands were gentle now as they rubbed Belle's hips and he nuzzled and kissed her neck with utmost tenderness as Belle buried her face in his shoulder.

"Mon amour," Erik murmured softly against Belle's jaw as he kissed it. "J'taime."

Belle lifted her head and smiled sweetly at her husband. "My love," she whispered before pressing tender kisses to every inch of the disfigured half of Erik's face--shivering as she felt her heart beating in time with his. "J'adore."

* * *

**A/N:**Second daughter of Eve and I are trying to petition FF/net to add some sort of IM system to the site. If you think this is a good idea, PM me and I'll add your name to the list :)


	23. Chapter 23

Please review! I love hearing from my readers! I live for reviews, and I do in fact allow anonymous reviews, so don't be shy! If you have reviewed, I heartily thank you! Please note that while I welcome constructive criticism, all flamers will be strung up with the Punjab lasso!

Sorry for the delay, but the demand for updates on another fic of mine have been so great that I've been neglecting this one *hides from Erik*

**Disclaimer:**I don't own 'Phantom of the Opera' (any of the renditions) or any of the cannon characters...unfortunately...(God, I wish I owned Erik!) I'm not making any money from this, I'm just writing this for fun. I do however own Annabelle and any other OCs you may find in the story.

* * *

**Chapter 23**

* * *

_...Easter..._

"Careful, children. Don't run!" Mrs. White called.

"Oh, Belle dear, this was such a wonderful idea," Jane Stanford said with a smile as she sipped her glass of lemonade and fanned herself.

"It may have been my idea, Jane, but it was my husband who allowed it to come to pass," Belle said with a loving smile as she looked up at Erik.

"Thank you so very much for this, Monsieur Dessler," Mrs. White said with a small bow of her head.

"Think nothing of it, madame," Erik said with a small smile.

"It was still very kind of you, Monsieur Dessler," Jane said with a smile before looking to Mrs. White. "I can't imagine that these children get much opportunity to be outside like this."

"No, unfortunately not," Mrs. White said as she sat in the chair beside Jane's. "We try to take them out whenever we can, but because there are so many, we're not always able to."

"So many children..." Erik mused softly as he lounged in his chair and simply watched the boys and girls running about the gardens in various forms of play. He had no idea there were so many orphans in this city. "Even in a thriving city such as this..."

"Yes," Mrs. White said with a sad nod. "Many of their parents died in factory accidents...some died after making the journey here." She sighed softly. "But many of them are simply left on our doorstep."

"But _why_?" Erik asked with genuine puzzlement. He could see nothing wrong with any of the children. Why would no one want them?

"Poverty," Mrs. White answered simply. "Their parents can't afford to feed themselves, let alone their children, so they give them to us..."

Erik simply sighed softly and gave a small shake of his head as he watched the children play.

"They all seem to be enjoying themselves, my love," Belle said with a smile as she gently rested a hand on her husband's arm. "Thank you for that, my love."

Erik smiled down at his wife as he placed a hand over hers--his thumb brushing over Belle's delicate knuckles with light yet possessive strokes. "You know that I can deny you nothing, my pet." Taking a hold of his wife's hand, he raised it and pressed a kiss to it. "If you three will excuse me," he said upon standing. "I won't be long."

"Will you be back in time for the egg hunt?" Belle asked as she looked up at Erik from under the shade of her hat.

"Oui, my pet," Erik said with a small smile before giving a small bow of his head. "Ladies..." With that, he turned on his heel and strode towards the manor. He smiled and nodded in acknowledgment as he passed various guests all the while effortlessly side-stepping laughing children as they ran past. He had always liked children, and it filled Erik with a pleasant joy that he was able to bring happiness to so many of them.

Sighing softly, a small smile played upon his lips as he made his way towards his office. His mind was filled with images of family...of Belle heavy and round with his child. The images were so beautiful in their simplicity, and Erik's heart raced in excitement at the possibility that she might already be with child. Had his seed already taken root within the orchard of his wife's womb? Was his child already growing within the safe, warm haven Belle's womb provided?

His thoughts and reveries were jarred however when he heard the unmistakable sound of piano keys being played. They were not the sounds of confident chords and crescendos, but rather tentative picking. Regardless of the experience of the player, Erik would not allow him or her to linger any longer. The music room was _his_ domain, and no one else but Belle was allowed to be in there unaccompanied. It was with a determined stride that Erik switched his direction and strode down the hall. Throwing open the door, Erik's eyes widened in surprise when he saw not an adult but a small, dark-haired boy sitting on the piano bench.

The boy's feet dangled almost a foot above the ground, and when he turned to Erik with a look fearful apprehension at having been caught, Erik found he could not hold onto the near anger he felt as a result of his privacy having been violated.

Schooling his features to be gentler than what he knew they currently were, Erik stepped into the room. "What is your name?"

"Nathanial," the boy said softly. "Who are you?"

"Well, Nathanial, my name is Erik Dessler. I am the master of this house."

"Are you married to the angel lady?" Nathanial asked.

Erik blinked in confusion. "Angel lady?"

Nathanial nodded. "Miss Belle. She say's she's not an angel...but I think she is."

Erik smiled softly. "Oh? And why is that?"

"Because she's pretty," Nathanial answered. "And she's always kind to me..."

Erik chuckled softly. "Ah, yes...beauty and kindness…both attributes of an angel. Yes, Nathanial...I _am_ married to the angel lady," he answered. "Now, how did you come to be in this room?" he asked as he strode across the room until he was standing beside the piano. "Why are you not outside with the other children?"

"I was hiding," Nathanial answered softly as he ducked his head--hiding his face as best he could behind his dark hair.

"You were hiding?" Erik asked with a slightly raised eyebrow. "Why? Who were you hiding from?"

"Some boys form the orphanage," Nathanial answered softly. "They pick on me..."

"Now why would they do that?" Erik asked with gentle curiosity.

"Because I'm little," Nathanial answered softly. "And because of my eyes." As the small boy uttered those last words, he raised his face so that Erik could see to what he was referring.

Erik's keen eyes had no trouble at all discerning the boy's two different colored eyes. "They pick you because of _that_?" he asked in disbelief--the subject hitting close to home with him. He could not believe the boy was picked on for something as trivial as eye color. Save for that one small 'defect' the boy was perfectly normal. Erik would even go so far as to say that Nathanial was beautiful.

Nathanial nodded mutely. "So when they chased me into the house, I hid in here. I meant to go back outside when I thought they were gone...but I was afraid..." His cheeks darkened with his blush.

Erik smiled gently and moved around to the piano bench before sitting beside the small boy. "There is no shame in feeling fear, my boy," he said in a soothing tone. "We _all_ feel fear at one point or another."

"Even you?" Nathanial asked in awe.

"Yes," Erik said with a small nod. "Even me."

"But...you're a grown-up..."

Erik chuckled softly. "Yes, I am...but I still feel fear on occasion. Granted, it does not happen often...but it _does_ in fact happen." While he knew in his heart that Belle would never leave him of her own free will, Erik still lived in constant fear that his beloved would be ripped from him by some other force.

"Oh..." Nathanial said softly before turning his gaze back to the piano keys--his little fingers lightly touching the smooth ivory.

Erik watched the small boy silently for a few moments before finally speaking. "Would you like to learn how to play?" he asked softly.

Nathanial looked up at Erik with wide eyes. "You know how to play?"

"Yes," Erik said with a small smile as he nodded. "Very well in fact. I would not mind teaching you..."

Nathanial smiled brightly up at the older man and nodded--his different colored eyes sparkling with delight.

"Very well," Erik said--his smile growing a fraction of an inch. He lightly touched his hand to Nathanial's back. "Sit up straight, and keep your shoulders down," he said as he lightly tapped the small boy's shoulder with his other hand. "Now..." he said as he placed his right hand over the keys--his thumb resting on Middle C. "Watch me..."

~*~*~

_...A little later..._

"Has anyone seen Nathanial?" Mrs. White asked worriedly. "I haven't seen him for almost an hour."

"No, I haven't seen him," Jane answered. "But he missed the egg hunt."

"Nor I," another lady answered.

"What does he look like?"

"I'm sure he's around. There's no need to worry."

"Jane, would you be good enough to check the gardens with Mrs. White?" Belle asked. "I'll go inside and see if he's there."

"Alright," Jane said with a nod as she stood and opened her parasol. "Mrs. White, you take the left. I'll take the right."

With the two older women sorting themselves, Belle made her way across the grounds and into the shade of the manor. Her first stop was the kitchen, and she poked her head inside. "Excuse me...Mrs. Pierce? Mrs. Smith? I'm so sorry to bother you when I know how busy you are, but have you seen a small boy?"

"A small boy?" Mrs. Pierce asked.

"Yes," Bell answered with a nod as she came fully into the kitchen and held a hand to the level of her hip. "He's about this high, with dark, curly hair and different colored eyes."

Mrs. Smith shook her head. "I've not seen any boy like that. Why? Is one missin'?"

"Yes, he's one of the orphans," Belle answered. "If you see him, would you please keep him here until I come back?"

"Of course, ma'am," the cook answered with a nod.

"I'll help you look," the housekeeper said. "There are many places for a small child to get to in this house."

"Oh, thank you," Belle said with a smile. "You take the upstairs. I'll take this level."

"Very good, Mrs. Dessler," Mrs. Pierce said as she hurried towards the stairs.

That done, Belle ducked out of the kitchen and hurried into the dining room--making certain to check under the table. Finding no trace of Nathanial there, she then hurried into the parlor. Once again, she had no luck in locating the boy. This pattern continued through her search of Erik's office, the library, the ballroom and the solarium, and by the time the petite blond had exited the latter she was nearly at her wit's end with worry.

Where could the boy have gone?

Had he been abducted? Belle knew she would never forgive herself if any harm befell the boy.

The worried racing of her mind paused however when she heard the soft sound of the piano being played in the music room. It was not the sure and effortless playing of her beloved, and that meant that someone else was in the room. Belle's heart skipped and fluttered with the hope that she had at last found Nathanial. Hurrying to the room, she opened the door and stopped in her tracks at the sight of both Erik and Nathanial sitting side by side on the piano bench--the former gently guiding the latter's much smaller hands over the keys. At the sight before her, Belle could not stop the deep fluttering in her abdomen anymore than she could stop the warming of her heart.

"Oh…" she uttered softly with the smallest of smiles—very much liking the image of Erik with a boy who could very easily be his son.

Erik looked over and smiled upon seeing his wife. "Ah, ma petite ange, you have found us."

"Hello, Miss Belle," Nathanial greeted with a smile. "Mr. Erik was teaching me how to play the piano."

"Yes, I can see that," Belle answered with a growing smile as she closed the door and moved across the room to the piano.

"I found him in here," Erik explained—leaving out the why. He would inform Belle when they were alone.

"Well, we've all been looking for you," Belle said as she came to stand on Nathanial's other side. "You missed the egg hunt," she said gently as she lightly ran her hand over the boy's dark hair.

Nathanial's eyes widened briefly before his face fell into a pout.

"I wouldn't worry though," Belle said with a smile. "I saved you a chocolate rabbit."

"Really?" Nathanial asked hopefully.

"Yes, really," Belle answered with a smile as she hugged the small boy before she could stop herself.

"Oh, thank you, Miss Belle!" Nathanial exclaimed as he wriggled around in Belle's arms so he could wrap his little arms around her waist and hug her back.

"You're very welcome, Nathan," Belle said with a smile.

Erik watched the pair of them silently—a small, faraway smile playing upon his lips. After a few moments, he cleared his throat. "Come now…we really should get back to the others," he said as he stood.

"Yes," Belle said as she gently pushed Nathanial away. "The sooner we get back, the sooner you can have your chocolate bunny."

"Alright," Nathanial said with a smile as he slid off the bench and scurried over to the door before opening it with a great effort.

Belle giggled softly as she watched the small boy hurry down the corridor before stopping and looking back at them expectantly. "Come, my love," she whispered to Erik. "I believe he's waiting for us." She tucked her hand into Erik's arm and began walking.

"He appears to be a good lad," Erik murmured softly for Belle's ears as he closed the music room door behind them.

"He _is_," Belle affirmed with a nod. "He's a very dear and sweet boy."

"He appears to have taken quite a liking to you, ma petite."

Belle smiled softly. "I'm very fond of him as well. I can't deny the fact that he's the reason I go to the orphanage as often as I do…" A soft blush colored her cheeks. "You didn't seem to mind him being in your music room…"

"He was hiding from some other boys," Erik explained.

"Yes," Belle said with a small yet sad sigh. "He is often picked on by the other boys."

"So he was telling me," Erik said with a nod. They were getting closer to the boy now, so he drew to a halt and gently turned Belle to face him. "Belle my love."

"Yes?" Belle asked as she looked up at Erik and tilted her head to the side.

"I know that we plan on having children of our own, but…" Erik glanced at Nathanial before looking back at his wife. "What do you say to making little Nathanial part of our family?"

Belle blinked before her eyes widened in delighted surprise. "Really?" she asked in an excited whisper.

"Oui, my darling," Erik said with a nod and a smile as he raised Belle's hand to his lips and brushed a kiss to her knuckles.

"Oh, Erik my love!" Belle exclaimed as she threw her arms around her husband's neck. "I would adore it!"

Erik smiled and nuzzled his wife's temple briefly as he held her close. "Then it shall be done."

~*~*~

_…A few hours later…_

"Is this really my room?" Nathanial asked in awe as he looked around the space. Having been used to sharing a room with ten other boys, the idea of having an entire bedroom all to himself was difficult for him to comprehend.

"Yes it is," Belle answered with a smile as she sat down on the edge of the bed and watched the small boy.

"It's so big…"

"I know," Belle said. "All the more space for you to fill with toys," she said with a conspiring smile.

Nathanial's eyes widened and he turned to face Belle with a look of utter disbelief. "Toys? I get to have toys?"

"Of course," Belle answered with a nod. She barely had time to register the sight of Nathanial running at her before the small boy had thrown himself into her arms and hugged her tightly.

"Thank you! Thank you, Miss Belle!"

Belle's smile only grew and she wrapped her arms around Nathanial as she held him. "You're more than welcome, little one…and you don't have to keep calling me that."

Nathanial looked up at Belle and blinked. "What should I call you?"

"Mother…mama…mommy…either of those would work well," Belle said with a smile.

"Do I call Mr. Dessler 'father' when he gets back?" Nathanial asked.

"Yes," Belle answered with a nod. "Or papa…or daddy. He's gone to the orphanage to see to the paperwork, but when he comes back, you will officially be our son," she said with a warm smile as she tenderly cupped Nathanial's cheek in her palm. "You're part of our family now."

Nathanial said nothing but simply smiled before climbing onto the bed and nestling into Belle. "Will you still read to me?" he asked softly.

"Of course," Belle answered with a smile as she gently cradled the small boy to her. "Every night if you'd like."

"Thank you…mommy."

Belle swore she felt her heart melt, but it soon raced when Erik appeared in the doorway. "Is everything alright, my darling?"

"Yes, my love," Erik answered with a nod and a smile as he entered the room. Moving to the bed, he sat down on Nathanial's other side and lightly smoothed his dark hair. "Young Nathanial is officially our son."

Belle was all smiles as she kissed her son's forehead. "Did you hear that, my child? You're ours now."

Smiling, Nathanial turned and shifted so he could properly see Erik. "Will you still teach me how to play the piano…father?"

Erik felt a tug on his heart the likes of which he had never felt before, and as he smiled, he could not stop himself from draping an arm around the boy. "Of course, if you wish it." His eyes widened in surprise when Nathanial threw his arms around him and hugged him as tight as his little arms would allow, and he could not stop the single tear from rolling down his cheek. "Welcome home…my son."


	24. Chapter 24

Please review! I love hearing from my readers! I live for reviews, and I do in fact allow anonymous reviews, so don't be shy! If you have reviewed, I heartily thank you! Please note that while I welcome constructive criticism, all flamers will be strung up with the Punjab lasso!

**Disclaimer:**I don't own 'Phantom of the Opera' (any of the renditions) or any of the cannon characters...unfortunately...(God, I wish I owned Erik!) I'm not making any money from this, I'm just writing this for fun. I do however own Annabelle and any other OCs you may find in the story.

* * *

**Chapter 24**

* * *

_...Just outside of Paris; a month later..._

A lone, dark-haired woman sat in a chair by the window--bent over her sewing. There was a touch of gray to her raven tresses, and small wrinkles around her eyes, but other than that that years had been kind to the former ballet mistress of the Paris Opera House. She still had her health, and because of all her years as a dancer as well as a teacher, her body was still nimble and strong.

Hers had been a quiet and simple life since the destruction of the opera house. Wanting to escape the darkness of the memories that lingered, she had taken all of her life savings and bought a small cottage in the country. Was it out of fear?

Perhaps.

She had not exactly remained loyal to Erik when she had shown Raoul the way to his underground lair. But then again, Erik had been in such a state that night that Mme. Giry had for the first time feared that he would do serious harm to Christine. As a mother, Mme. Giry could not in good conscience look the other way when Erik had abducted the young girl, and it had been a maternal instinct that had driven the former ballet mistress to aide Raoul in his rescue of the young singer.

Regardless of her intentions, it did nothing to ease Mme. Giry's fears that Erik would see her as a traitor against him and exact vengeance upon her in some way. Though Erik had never hurt her in the past, the former ballet mistress could not be certain of anything with Erik being in the state he was in during that night. It had been nine years now since that night, and she had neither seen nor heard from Erik since.

She knew he had not been caught. All of France would have heard of Erik's capture had that been the case.

Perhaps he was dead...whether by his own hand or as a result of the opera house falling down around him, Mme. Giry would not know...

But she would be lying indeed if she said that the thought of Erik's death did not fill her with sadness. Erik had been such a constant presence for most of her life, and she had devoted so much of her time to protecting him and hiding him from the world that the thought of him no longer being in it was enough cause to make the former ballet mistress grieve the way one would for a dearly departed friend.

A sudden knock at the door pulled the former ballet mistress from her reverie, and she put her sewing aside as she stood--taking care to smooth her neat bun as she strode to the door. Upon opening the door, she found herself face to face with a small, middle-aged man with brown hair that was graying at the temples. "Oui?" she asked curiously.

"Antoinette Giry?" the man asked.

"Oui," Antoinette answered with a small nod.

"My name is Donald Masterson," the man said with a small but polite bow of his head. "I was sent here from America to give you this letter," he said as he quickly swept his eyes over his surroundings while holding out an envelope.

"America?" Mme. Giry asked in confusion as she accepted the envelope and turned it over in her hands--taking in the sight of the blood-red, wax seal. The emblem was of an elegantly cursive 'E', but other than that there were no other symbols or decorations. "But I know no one in America." Though she spoke English well, her accent was thick.

"Apparently you do, ma'am," Donald said. "Please read the letter. My instructions are to wait until you finish."

Antoinette arched a dark eyebrow. "Instructions?"

"Please, ma'am," Donald said as he motioned to the letter.

Antoinette sighed and gave the smallest shakes of her head. "Very well," she said as she broke the wax seal and opened the envelope--her eyes widening as they instantly recognized the distinct script written upon the heavy stationary once the letter had been unfolded.

_March 13, 1880_

_My dear madame,_

_Do not fear that this letter contains ill wishes upon you or your family,  
for it does not. I bear you no ill will for showing the Vicomte de Changy  
the way to my home, but your apparent belief that I would do Christine  
harm **was** quite hurtful in itself. However, these matters are in the past  
and hold no sway over either the present or the future._

_It **is** however of the future which I wish to speak. After the destruction of the  
Paris Opera House, I have thought it best to leave Europe and instead pursue  
a life in the New World. As it happens, this new life includes the building of an  
opera house of which I am a partnering manager. As such, it is my duty  
to ensure that only the best singers, musicians and dancers set foot upon  
my stage. However, even the best dancers are at best only mediocre when  
faced with the absence of a great teacher, which brings me to the point of  
my letter._

_I am writing you in order to request your presence within the walls of my  
opera house and reprise your position as the mistress of the corps de ballet.  
You will of course be paid handsomely. Also, I would be remiss if I did not  
extend this request to your daughter Meg as well. She was without a doubt  
the most gifted ballerina I have ever had the pleasure of watching, and if she  
has continued with her craft, I have no doubt that she will be a valuable part  
of my opera house's corps de ballet._

_While I realize that you and your daughter may very well refuse me, I can only  
hope that either one or both of you accept my invitation. Should you accept, be  
aware that I shall pay your ways and see that you are comfortably accommodated  
until you find a permanent residence. Regardless of what your answer may be,  
please send it back with the gentleman who delivered this letter to you. He will  
by now have taken note of your address and location and will provide me with  
those details should your answer be an affirmative so I may make your travel  
arrangements. I am afraid that it must be done in this way, my good madame,  
for if you **do** refuse me then I shall not be in fear of being found out by whatever  
authorities who may still be searching for me. This land truly **is** the land of  
opportunity, and I have established a life here the likes of which I could never  
have hoped to establish anywhere else._

_Simply put, my dear madame, I am the happiest I have ever been and do **not**  
wish to see that happiness taken from me. It is because of this that I must  
employ the use of secrecy in dealing with this situation._

_I have laid my offer before you, and I now must tell you that time is of the  
essence, madame. Please do not take too long with your answer._

_Your obedient friend._

For several moments, all Antoinette could do was stare at the letter and read it over and over again--her mind hardly believing what her eyes were seeing.

Erik was alive...

Erik was alive?

Erik was alive!

Erik was alive and living a new in America. More to the point, Erik was happy...

_Happy_.

In all her years of knowing Erik, Antoinette had never seen him truly happy...not _truly_. There was always a lingering sadness...a dark passenger that refused to leave the miserable creature in peace. But perhaps now things were different in that regard. Antoinette could only hope that they were. As it was, things were already different because Erik was asking her for help. With the exception of asking her to aide in the rumors of a malevolent opera ghost, Erik had never asked Antoinette's help in anything. The fact that he was doing so now only proved to Antoinette the truth behind his written words.

Erik bore her no ill will.

Safe in that knowledge, Antoinette knew that no harm would come to her should she accept Erik's offer. No harm would come to Meg either. Despite that knowledge however, would she be able to leave behind her life in France? Would Meg accept the offer? While her daughter had chosen a life of dance instead of a life of family and love, would she be able to leave everything behind? Should her daughter refuse the offer, would Antoinette be able to leave her behind?

There were so many questions, and Antoinette was not certain she had all the answers.

"Well, ma'am?" Donald asked.

Antoinette was silent for a few more moments before looking Donald in the eye. "Monsieur...I will have an answer for you by tomorrow."

Donald gave a small bow of his head. "Fair enough."

"In the meantime, will you not come in?" Antoinette asked as she stepped aside. "There is an extra room you can sleep in." If Erik trusted this man, then the ballet mistress knew that she could as well.

"Yes, thank you," Donald said as he took up his small bag and stepped over the threshold. "If you don't mind my asking, what would help you in furthering along your decision?"

"My daughter," Antoinette answered. "I must ask my daughter her feelings on the matter. Fortunately for you and our mutual acquaintance, she is coming to dine with me tonight," she said as she directed Donald to a chair.

"And have you known our acquaintance long?" Donald asked as he sat in the preferred chair.

"Most of my life," Antoinette answered simply as she resumed her chair by the window.

"Then you should know how he doesn't like to be kept waiting," Donald said with a chuckle.

Antoinette said nothing but smiled wryly. While Erik could display vast patience when he was so inclined, the ballet mistress knew only too well the impatience that dwelled just below the surface. "Oui, monsieur...of that I am well aware."

The sooner she gave Donald an answer, the better.

* * *

**A/N:** I know it's short, but it's more of a transitional chapter than anything else :)


	25. Chapter 25

Please review! I love hearing from my readers! I live for reviews, and I do in fact allow anonymous reviews, so don't be shy! If you have reviewed, I heartily thank you! Please note that while I welcome constructive criticism, all flamers will be strung up with the Punjab lasso!

Sorry for the delay, but the demand for updates on another fic of mine have been so great that I've been neglecting this one *hides from Erik*

**Disclaimer:**I don't own 'Phantom of the Opera' (any of the renditions) or any of the cannon characters...unfortunately...(God, I wish I owned Erik!) I'm not making any money from this, I'm just writing this for fun. I do however own Annabelle and any other OCs you may find in the story.

* * *

**Chapter 25**

* * *

_...Music room; a month later..._

Seated at his piano, Erik worked like a man possessed.

Sheets of music were scattered and spread all around him-many of them with the ink just barely drying as Erik hurriedly scrawled out the notes for the next page. Page after page was almost carelessly placed aside in various piles as streams of music played through Erik's mind like quicksilver. It was music he knew down to his very soul, so there was no danger of him forgetting it.

It was however the first time since the night of the opera house burning to the ground...the night of Christine's betrayal...that Erik had felt inspired to even _think_ about approaching his magnum opus again.

_Don Juan Triumphant_...

His life's work.

After the night of Christine's final escape from him, Erik had not had the desire to ever approach the opera again. It simply stirred up too many painful memories for him...memories of the deepest betrayal and humiliation. All those years ago, Erik never believed that he would ever heal from that pain. But he _had._ Erik now had everything he had ever wanted, and the wounds upon his heart and soul had healed completely.

His life was now perfect and complete.

He had the love, devotion and adoration of the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes upon, and he had an adoring son with whom he shared a strong bond and kinship. It all was everything Erik had dreamed of for his entire life, but had never believed that he would ever be blessed with.

Belle...

Nathanial...

Oh, how Erik loved his family! They were both so very dear and precious to him, and it was _they_ who would wrap Erik in a cocoon of warmth and love to keep him safe from the pain of his past. It was _they_ who gave Erik the strength to fully face his demons and pick up his magnum opus once more. Of course he would have to give it a different name. Having never been a fool, Erik knew only too well that there was a chance that word of the opera would spread. What was to say that the news would not reach the ears of the Paris police? However, the name was of a small consequence…

Names came and went.

But the opera itself would be launched as Erik had always dreamed it would. It was with this great work that Erik would launch the opening of his opera house-rising like a great phoenix from the ashes that his life had been reduced to all those years ago.

What better way to christen the stage of his life-long ambition than with an opera that had been over two decades in the making? Erik's only regret was that _he_ would not be able to play opposite his beloved Belle-that someone _else_ would play the role that he so identified with.

But perhaps he could conduct the orchestra on opening night?

Yes.

While Erik was in the process of finding a conductor for the orchestra, he himself was determined to lead that orchestra on opening night.

The debut of _his_ opera...

The debut of _his_ opera house...

The debut of _his_ beloved songbird...

Erik would be the one to give them all to the people of San Francisco like a father giving away a bride. Except in this instance, the actual bride would come home to _his_ bed when the night was over. It would be in _his_ arms that the bride would spend the night, and Erik could not help but smile at that thought.

Yes, while Belle may belong to the city and its people for a few hours each night, she was really and truly _his_ for the rest of eternity.

The familiar sounds of his beloved wife's voice accompanied by that of their son pulled Erik from his reverie, and it was with a smile that he turned expectantly towards the door. "Come in," he said upon hearing the familiar, gentle knock of Belle's little knuckles. Erik's smile only grew when Nathanial bounded into the room, and he laughed happily when he caught his son's small body in an embrace after the boy had thrown himself at him.

"Hello, papa," Nathanial greeted with a happy smile as he kissed Erik's cheek-his mismatched eyes twinkling merrily. In the time he had been with his adoptive parents, he had flourished under their gentle, patient guidance as well as their loving attentions. While he was still a little on the shy side, Nathanial was no longer timid and fearful. He could feel the love his parents had for each other, and every day he felt the love and affection they had for him.

Nathaniel felt it down to his little bones.

While he had not been born of them, Nathanial never once felt as though he were any _less_ theirs. Nathanial was their son. It was as simple as that. He had been _chosen_ by them to be their child, and such was how they viewed him. Nathanial was their son, and they loved him to pieces.

"Hello, my son," Erik greeted in return as he kissed Nathanial's cheek before turning his gaze to Belle. "Hello, ma petite ange," he greeted with a loving smile before reaching out with a hand and wrapping his long fingers around Bella's small hand before gently pulling her close.

"Hello, my love," Belle greeted before tenderly brushing a kiss to Erik's lips.

"Did the two of you have a good day in town?" Erik asked.

"Yes we did," Belle answered with a smile. "It of course would have been lovely if you had been with us, but I understand why you didn't come with us."

"Yes, I am afraid it could not be helped," Erik answered with a small nod. "My muse would not allow me reprieve until I had gotten everything down on paper." He brushed a lingering kiss to Belle's knuckles before looking to Nathanial. "Were you a good boy for your mother?" he asked with a smile.

"Yes, papa," Nathanial answered with a nod while smiling broadly.

"He was a very good boy," Belle answered with a smile as she fondly smoothed her son's dark curls before pressing a kiss to his forehead. "He behaved himself all the while I was picking out some new shirts for you as well as while I was in the milliner's shop. In fact, he was _such_ a good boy that I couldn't resist buying him a toy."

"A _toy_, eh?" Erik asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, papa," Nathanial answered with an excited nod. "A toy boat...with a sail and everything!"

"A toy boat, no less," Erik repeated with a smile.

"Yes! My very first one," Nathanial exclaimed happily as he bounced on his father's lap.

"And just where is this wonderful boat?" Erik asked.

"I had Mrs. Pierce take it up to Nathan's room," Belle answered.

"It actually goes in the water, papa," Nathanial said.

"Oh, does it now?" Erik asked playfully with a twinkle in his eye which only brightened with his smile upon hearing Belle giggle.

Nathanial was bouncing excitedly on his father's lap now. "Yes, it does! It has a string so I can pull it behind me in the water. Can we go to the lake in the park and play with it? Please, papa? _Please_?"

As Erik gazed down at his son, he found that he could not deny him this request. "Very well," he said with a smile before fondly ruffling Nathanial's curls. "Go get your coat little one," he said as he gently moved Nathanial from his lap and placed him upon his feet before standing.

"Yay! Thank you, papa! I'll go get it right now!" Nathanial exclaimed happily with a wide smile before turning and running from the room.

"Don't forget your boat, my darling," Belle called after the small boy with a soft giggle before sighing in contentment when Erik drew her close and brushed a tender kiss to her forehead. "Oh, how I love you," she murmured as she nestled into her husband.

"How I treasure you," Erik replied as he held Belle close for several moments before drawing away and placing his wife's small hand into the crook of his arm before leading the way out of the music room. "You really didn't have to buy new shirts for me."

"Yes, I did," Belle answered. "I've been so preoccupied with buying things for Nathanial that I haven't been focusing on you and your needs."

Erik smiled softly and leaned down to briefly nuzzle Belle's hair. "I have everything I could ever need or want," he murmured before kissing his wife's temple. "Never doubt that."

Belle smiled softly while leaning into Erik's touch. "As you wish, my love. Did you get much writing done, today?" she asked as they continued walking.

"Yes as a matter of fact," Erik answered with a nod. "I am already halfway through writing all the music."

Belle blinked. "For the _entire_ opera?"

"Yes," Erik answered.

"Oh, my love…I _do_ hope that you remembered to eat."

Erik raised an eyebrow and gazed down at his wife. "Are you not impressed?"

"I _am_," Belle answered. "I'm very impressed actually, but I'm also worried about _you_." She gazed up at her husband. "My love, you mustn't push yourself too hard. You'll get sick if you do." She sighed softly. "You mean too much to Nathanial and me. Where would our little son be without the father he loves so much?" She hugged Erik's arm. "Where would _I_ be without the husband who is the other half of my soul?"

Erik smiled softly down at Belle as his heart fluttered. Never in his life had he ever had someone genuinely worry about him the way that his young wife did, and while it was strange and unfamiliar to him, Erik would have been lying if he said he did not enjoy it. "You have no cause for concern, my love," he said gently while pressing a kiss to the top of Belle's head. "I have no intention of leaving either you or our son for quite some time."

"I can't help but worry," Belle replied with a soft blush. "It's my privilege and duty as your wife to worry about you." She felt her heart race, and a familiar ache formed deep within her as she watched Erik's warm hazel eyes shift to molten gold.

"Do you enjoy taking care of me, my pet?" Erik asked in a hushed voice with a low, underlying growl as he slowly came to a halt at the foot of the winding staircase.

Small shivers of delight raced through Belle's spine. "Yes, my love," she whispered.

It was a slow smile that tugged at the corners of Erik's mouth, and he pressed Belle close to his body once he had pulled his arm free of her grasp. "That pleases me greatly," he growled softly—delighting in how his wife's breath caught in her throat before quickening in excitement.

The two of them were pulled from their rising desire by the sound of their son's excited footfalls rushing from the upper hall towards the staircase.

"Nathanial, please don't run," Belle called up the stairs. "Neither the lake nor the park are going anywhere."

"Yes, mummy," came the chastised voice from the top of the stairs before being followed by slow and careful footsteps.

Erik grinned and chuckled while kissing Belle's temple. "See that the two of you are bundled up," he said before drawing away. "I will see to the carriage."

* * *

_...The park; an hour later..._

"Nathanial, please be careful," Belle called worriedly as she watched her son running along the bank of the lake. Her right hand nestled in the crook of Erik's arm while her free hand held a parasol, Belle walked at a leisurely pace with her husband as their son played with his boat. It was a lovely day, and she was happy to walked with her husband by her side, but that did not mean that Belle did not worry that her son would fall into the lake. Despite the loveliness of the day, there was still a chill in the air, and the last thing Belle wanted was for Nathanial to catch a cold.

"He will be fine," Erik said with a reassuring pat to Belle's hand. "Do not worry so much, my pet."

"I can't help it," Belle said with a sheepish smile.

Erik smiled softly. "I happen to think it very endearing."

"Mummy! Papa! Do you see me?" Nathanial called excitedly.

"Yes, we see you," Erik called back with a smile and a small wave. "He is a good boy," he commented fondly to Belle. "I could not ask for a better son."

"Not even if we were to have another?" Belle asked.

Erik blinked and stopped in his tracks. "Belle? Are you…?"

"Oh, no I'm not," Belle answered with a small shake of her head. "I was speaking hypothetically.

Erik sighed softly.

"Don't you want anymore children?" Belle asked softly.

"It isn't that, my dear," Erik answered gently.

"Then what?" Belle asked.

Erik sighed again. "As much as I would love to welcome any little lives created out of our love into the world…what if they…?"

"What if they what?" Belle asked curiously.

"What they look like me?" Erik asked softly as he motioned to his mask.

Belle gave Erik's arm a gentle squeeze. "Then we will love them all the same," she answered with a sweet smile.

"It is not us that I worry about," Erik admitted. "It is the rest of the world. Belle, you know that my life was not an easy one. It was a life of fear, ridicule and hate because of my face. I cannot bear the thought of passing that sort of life down to my children."

"Unlike you, my darling, whatever children we have will have two things that you didn't have."

"Such as?" Erik asked.

"_Us_," Belle answered. "Our children will have a mother and a father who will love them no matter what."

Erik smiled softly. "That is very true." He lowered his voice a little. "I would indeed be lying if I said I did not find the image of you heavy with my child to be the most beautiful vision I have ever seen."

A soft blush colored Belle's cheeks. "I hope I can live up to your expectations."

"I know you will," Erik answered with his smile still in place.

"Dessler!"

"Ah, Monsieur and Madame Stanford," Erik greeted with a tip of his hat upon looking to the right and seeing none other than his business partner approaching with his own wife and son. "And the younger Leland. How are all of you today?"

"We're very well," Leland senior said with a smile and tip of his hat in acknowledgment of Belle who had given a small curtsey to both him and his wife. "Thought we would take in and enjoy this day before it gives way to the colder weather of the approaching evening."

"Oh, Belle how I love your hat," Jane said with a smile. "Is it new?"

"Yes," Belle answered with a smile. "I saw it the window today while Nathan and I were in town earlier and I just couldn't resist."

"And where is your adorable son?" Jane asked as she looked around.

"Oh, he's over there," Belle said after scanning the crowds for her son and motioning towards him. "He's playing with his new boat."

"New boat?" the younger Leland asked with evident excitement.

"Yes," Belle answered. "He just got it today."

"Can I go play with him, mother?" the young boy asked.

"Of course," Jane said with a smile. "Enjoy yourself but be careful," she called after her son's retreating form. "I will never stop worrying about that boy. I always worry that any given moment will be the last that I see him."

"That is something you and my wife seem to have in common," Erik said with a grin which only grew upon seeing Belle's soft blush.

"Don't let him bully you, dear," Jane said with a smile as she drew away from her husband and gently pulled Belle away from Erik before linking arms with the younger woman. "It's a mother's place to worry for her children."

"Alright then, I'll keep right on doing it then," Belle said with a smile.

"See that you do," Jane said with a soft laugh.

Leland threw back his head and laughed. "Careful, Dessler…they're siding against us."

Erik for his part merely grinned and chuckled as he watched the two women stroll off after the two boys.

"How goes the search for all the workers and the like for the opera house?" Leland as he began walking once more—one hand on his walking stick and the other behind his back.

"Everything is falling into place, my friend," Erik answered as he walked along beside the older man—his own hands clasped loosely behind his back. "The principle cast has been hired as have the chorus members. I am currently searching for orchestra members as well as a conductor, but the latter can wait until we get closer to the opening night. The hiring of stagehands and other workers can wait until after the construction is completed."

"Ah, good…and what of the ballet?" Leland asked. "You mentioned there was to be one."

"I have sent word to an old friend informing her of the available position of ballet mistress. I am hoping to have her answer soon, but if I do not hear back from her by the beginning of next week, I shall make new inquiries."

"Have you decided what will be the first opera to be performed?"

"I have," Erik said with a small smile.

"Excellent," Leland said with a smile. "Have I heard of it?"

"I'm afraid not, my friend," Erik answered. "It is quite new, but I assure you that it will bring sown the house."

"Well, then, it looks as though-" Leland was cut off by the sound of a loud splash followed by the undeniable cries of their wives. Turning in the direction of the sounds, Leland was greeted by the sight of both his son and Nathanial sitting in the lake completely drenched while Jane and Belle rushed towards them as fast as their shoes, petticoats and skirts would allow. Sighing, the older man glanced to Erik to find him with his eyes closed and slowly shaking his head as he lightly pinched the bridge of his nose. "We're never going to hear the end of this, are we?"

"Not in the slightest," Erik answered dryly.

* * *

…_The manor; later…_

With Belle hovering and fussing about Nathanial who was currently upstairs soaking in a hot bath, Erik was free to return to working on his opera. While Erik found himself pitying his son a little for the lecture he was undoubtedly on the receiving end of, he also could not stop himself from chuckling at the mental image he had of his sweet and gentle-natured Belle reprimanding the small boy. But such matters were of no concern at that moment.

At that moment, there was only Erik and his opera.

_Don Juan? The Don's Triumph? The Triumphant Don?_

No. The opera would simply be called _Don Juan._ Erik gave a small nod as he penned the title at the top of a blank sheet of paper. It was a small change to be sure, but it was enough of a difference so the title would not be recognized, and still allow for much of the opera to be as he had originally written it.

His masterpiece.

Mrs. Pierce's familiar, sharp rap at the door pulled Erik from his thoughts, and he did not bother hiding his growl of annoyance. "Come."

"Begging your pardon, sir," the housekeeper said after opening the door and giving a small, respectful bow of her head once having stepped inside. "But there is a Mr. Donald Masterson here to see you. I told him you were busy, but he insisted that it was important and refuses to leave until he speaks with you.

"Thank you. Please show him to my office and tell him I will be with him directly," Erik instructed as he stood—his earlier annoyance completely forgotten.

"Yes, sir," Mrs. Pierce said with a small bow of her head before turning with a swish of her skirts and departing.

Re-buttoning his collar, Erik made certain his shirt was tucked in before he slipped into his jacket—buttoning it as he strode from the room. Upon reaching his office, he opened the door to find Donald sitting in one of the chairs across from the desk. "Monsieur Masterson," Erik greeted while offering his hand—noting that the man smelled strongly of the sea. "I trust your journey both ways was safe and eventful?"

"It was, sir," Donald answered as he stood and shook Erik's hand. Before reaching into one of the inner pockets of his jacket and drawing out a sealed envelope. "As you requested."

"Thank you, Erik said with the smallest of smiles as he accepted the envelope before walking around his desk and sitting in his chair. "I'll have the other half of your payment in just a moment," he said as he withdrew a ledger from one of the draws and proceeded to write a check. Once he had finished, he carefully blotted the ink before tearing the check out of the book and handing it over to Donald. "As per our agreement."

"Thank you, sir," Donald said with a small nod as he accepted the check. "Now, since I came directly here from the harbors, I am in strong need of a hot bath and a bed that doesn't rock beneath me. If you require anymore of my services, you know where to find me."

"Of course," Erik answered as he put the ledger back into the drawer before standing.. "Thank you very much for your work. Mrs. Pierce will show you out. Wait a moment and I'll send for her."

"There's no need," Donald said with a small wave of his hand. "I can find my way." With a small bow of his head, the man turned on his heel and departed from Erik's sight—leaving the former opera ghost to his letter.

Wishing to remain undisturbed, Erik tucked the envelope into his jacket and hurried back to his music room—closing the door behind him. Once alone, he pulled the envelope from his pocket and turned it over in his hands. He recognized Mme. Giry's cursive script scrolled over the envelope's front instantly.

_O.G._

Taking a breath and letting it out slowly, Erik opened the envelope with slow deliberation before drawing the letter out and unfolding it.

_May 14, 1880_

_My dear friend,_

_I am relieved that you are alive and well, and I am overjoyed that you have  
for once found happiness. If there was ever a more deserving person for a happy  
life, it was you without any doubt._

_Coming to the matter of your letter to me, I have discussed the matter with my  
daughter, and the answers that we have to give you are both one and the same._

_Yes._

_We will both eagerly await your further instructions._

_Your friend always,_

_Antoinette Giry._

Gazing down at the short letter that still managed to speak volumes, Erik could not help but smile. Everything was falling perfectly into place. Antoinette and Meg would of course stay at the manor until they secured a residence of their own. Erik would not dream of having them stay in a hotel, and he knew how much Belle loved playing hostess. She took her duties as lady of the house very seriously, and Erik knew that neither Antoinette nor Meg would never want for attention while they stayed at the manor. Erik could not help but allow his smile to grow at that thought—the fact that Belle genuinely loved taking care of him and their house never ceasing to amaze him. Of course, he would have to let Belle as well as the servants know of the two guests, but that could wait until the morning, as could the booking of passages as well as informing Donald of his new assignment and impending seaward voyage.

But for now, as the tolling clock in the room distinctly informed him, it was dinner time.


End file.
